UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


SEARCHLIGHTS 


BY  HORACE  ANNESLEY  VACHELL 

NOVELS 

QUINNEYS' 
LOOT 

BUNCH  GRASS 
BLINDS  DOWN 
JOHN  VERNEY 
THE  OTHER  SIDE 

PLAYS 
JELF'S 
QUINNEYS' 
SEARCHLIGHTS 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


SEARCHLIGHTS 


A  PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


BY 

HORACE  ANNESLEY  VACHELL 

AUTHOR  OF  "BLINDS  DOWN,"  "LOOT,"  "BUNCH  GRASS," 
"JELP'S,"  "QUINNEYS',"  ETC. 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1915, 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


& 

a 

Jf 


604-3 


5 


TO 

\  H.  B.  IRVING 

*\fc 


Att  information  and  applications  for  permission  to 
perform  this  play  by  Amateurs  must  be  addressed  to 
MESSRS.  SAMUEL  FRENCH,  LTD.,  26,  Southampton 
Street,  Strand,  London. 


CHARACTERS 

ROBERT  ELAINE A  Capitalist 

SIR  ADALBERT  SCHMALTZ  -       -       .       .   A  Capitalist 

HARRY  ELAINE A  Guardsman 

FIRMIN A  Physician 

MONYPENNY A  Solicitor 

FEWSON A  Butler 

TREMLETT       -       -       -  '    -       -       .       A  Butler 

FOOTMAN 

HON.  MRS.  ELAINE 

LADY  SCHMALTZ 

PHGEBE  SCHMALTZ 

NURSE 


SCENES 

ACT  I 
The  Smoking-room,  Corriefeuran  Castle 

[Ten  months  elapse] 

ACT  II 

Library  of  Elaine's  country  house 

[Four  months  elapse] 

ACT  III 
Drawing-room  in  Elaine's  town  house 

TIME 
THE  PRESENT 


SEARCHLIGHTS 


ACT  I 

SCENE:  Smoking-room  at  Corriefeuran  Castle, 
Sutherland,  N.  B. 

TIME:  September,  1913. 

Curtain  discloses  the  smoking-room  at  the  Castle. 
Stags'  heads  embellish  the  walls.  There  is 
a  deep  fireplace  L.,  in  which  peat  is  smould- 
ering. A  club  fender  surrounds  this.  The 
room  indicates  opulence.  There  is  a  glazed 
cupboard  full  of  guns  and  rifles,  R.  The 
chairs  are  upholstered  in  red  leather,  and  a 
Turkey  carpet  lends  warmth  to  the  room, 
which  is  simply  furnished.  Big  windows 
opening  on  to  a  verandah  are  C.  Through 
these  the  audience  will  have  a  glimpse  of  a 
Sutherland  landscape,  under  rainy  skies. 

At  a  table  L.C.  HARRY  ELAINE  is  sitting,  L.  of 
table,  with  materials  for  fly-making  near  him. 
A  small  vice  is  on  the  table.   He  is  busily 
n 


12  SEARCHLIGHTS 

engaged  in  dressing  a  salmon  fly.  Seated 
in  arm-chair,  above  fireplace,  is  PHCEBE 
SCHMALTZ. 

HARRY  is  a  very  handsome  young  man,  dressed 
in  rough  tweeds.  PHCEBE  is  a  pleasant,  jolly- 
looking  girl,  healthy  rather  than  pretty,  also 
in  Scotch  tweeds.  She  is  leaning  her  head 
upon  her  hands  and  keenly  interested  in  her 
companion's  doings. 

Doors  R.  and  C.  Upon  the  wall  R.  of.  window 
is  a  barometer.  There  are  bookcases,  and 
below  the  stags'  heads  are  some  sporting 
prints  by  Thorburn. 

PHCEBE.     (After  a  pause.)    You  can  dress  flies. 

HARRY.  (Taking  the  fly  from  the  small  vice, 
and  examining  it  critically.)  I  can  dress  flies, 
old  thing,  and  I  can  dress  myself.  Also,  I 
can  ride  a  bit,  and  shoot,  and  dance.  (Yawns.) 
That's  about  the  extent  of  my  accomplish- 
ments. (He  gets  up,  walks  to  barometer  up 
R.,  taps  it,  and  yawns  again.) 

PHCEBE.     Going  up? 

HARRY.  A  wee  bittie.  What  a  beastly  day  it 
has  been! 

PHCEBE.     Father  was  rather  glad  of  a  day  off. 

HARRY.     (Sitting  on  table  L.C.  Decisively.) 


SEARCHLIGHTS  13 

Yes.    That  jumped  even  to  my  undiscerning 

eye.     Why  does   Sir  Adalbert  take  a  deer 

forest  ? 

PHCEBE.     Why  does  he  wear  a  kilt? 
HARRY.     Why,  indeed?  (Laughs.) 
PHCEBE.     Because  he  is  lineally  descended  from 

Marshal  Keith,  who  fought  under  Frederick 

the  Great. 
HARRY.    What  ho! 
PHCEBE.     (Smiling.)     And  he's  prouder  of  that 

Scotch  ancestry  than  of  all  his  German  blood. 

Also,  he's  an  altruist.     (Sits  on  curb  fender.) 
HARRY.    Ah  ? 

PHCEBE,     He  likes  to  give  stalking  to  undeserv- 
ing subalterns  in  the  Guards. 
HARRY.     (Coming  back  to  arm-chair  L.)    I've 

had  a  topping  week  of  it. 
PHCEBE.     Thanks.     I  hope  your  father  has  not 

been  bored  to  tears. 
HARRY.     Father  ?    He's  been  bored  right  enough, 

but  I  hope  he  hasn't  shown  it. 
PHCEBE.     Mr.  Elaine  never  shows  his  feelings. 
HARRY.     (Pulling  out  his  pipe  and  beginning 

to  -fill  it. )    I  say,  Phoebe,  we've  a  rummy  brace 

of  fathers — hey? 

PHCEBE.     I'm  quite  satisfied  with  mine. 
HARRY.     (Genially.)     Girls  are  easily  pleased. 

I  admit  that  Sir  Adalbert  is  a  good  sort.   He 

simply  worships  you.    My  father,  as  perhaps 


14  SEARCHLIGHTS 

you've  noticed,  is  not  conspicuously  fond  or 
proud  of  me. 

PHOEBE.  Your  mother  is  devoted  to  you.  (Takes 
hat  from  wicker  chair  dozvn  L.) 

HARRY.  The  mater  is  a  dear.  She  likes  you, 
Phoebe,  most  awfully.  You've  made  a  hit 
with  her. 

PHOZBE.  (Simply.)  I'm  glad.  Harry —  (Cross- 
ing to  front  of  table,  L.C.) 

HARRY.     (Not  looking  up.)    Eh? 

PHOZBE.  Harry,  have  you  quarrelled  with  your 
father?  (Sits  on  right  arm  of  arm-chair,  by 
HARRY.) 

HARRY.     Lord !  no.    Why  do  you  ask  ? 

PHOZBE.  Your  eye  may  be  undiscerning,  but 
mine  isn't.  You  don't  seem  quite  to  hit  it  off 
with  your  father. 

HARRY.  I  don't.  (Blows  pipe  that  is  stopped- 
up.) 

PHOZBE.     (Seriously.)    But  why? 

HARRY.  (Rather  bored,  but  polite.)  He  has  a 
sort  of  general  down  on  me.  I'm  his — (busi- 
ness pipe)  damn! — I'm  his  what  d'ye  call  it? 

PHOZBE.     (Suggesting.)    Antithesis? 

HARRY.     Got  it  in  one ! 

(HARRY  takes  feather  from  her  hat,  cleans 
his  pipe.  She  goes  away  from  him  in 
amazement.') 


SEARCHLIGHTS  15 

I'm  sorry  for  the  old  man.  He's  horribly  sick 
because  I'm  not  cut  to  his  confounded  pattern. 
(Throws  feather  into  fire.)  If  he'd  a  sense  of 
humour,  he'd  rejoice.  In  another  way  of 
speaking,  I'm  his 

PHCEBE.  (Profoundly  interested.  Crosses  to  fire, 
sits  on  curb.)  His  complement? 

HARRY.  Sharp  little  dear  you  are!  Wonderful 
vocabulary!  It's  like  this.  (Rises.)  He's  a 
great  banker,  a  money-maker.  (Goes  C.,  light- 
ing pipe.}  I'm  a  money-spender.  He's  dead 
nuts  on  business.  I'm  dead  nuts  on  having  a 
good  time.  There  you  are ! 

PHCEBE.     It  seems  a — pity. 

HARRY.  (Goes  to  table  L.C.)  I've  stopped 
worrying  over  my  father's  singular  want  of 
appreciation  of  his  one  and  only  child.  Live 
and  let  live,  is  my  motto !  (He  laughs  genially, 
and  sweeps  his  fly-dressing  materials  into  box.) 

PHCEBE.  You  are  certainly  alive.  (Crosses  to 
C.) 

HARRY.  Full  o'  beans.  (Bangs  box  on  table  at 
back. )  You're  a  sympathetic  little  dear,  Phoebe. 
I  like  talking  to  you. . . .  (Lies  on  table  L.C.) 

PHCEBE.  When  there  is  nobody  else  more  attrac- 
tive about.  (Sits  R.  of  L.C.  table.) 

HARRY.  (Examining  her  critically.)  Bless  you! 
You're  quite  attractive  enough.  I  hate  your 
scornful,  swanking  beauty. 


16  SEARCHLIGHTS 

PHCEBE.     Oh!    Thank  you! 

HARRY.  You'll  make  some  lucky  fellow  a  jolly 
little  wife. 

PHCEBE.     Knit  his  stockings  for  him.    (Smiles.) 

HARRY.     Jove !  You're  a  nailer  at  that. 

PHCEBE.     Run  his  house  properly? 

HARRY.  Do  him  top-hole  at  meals.  That's  the 
tip.  Come  down  smiling  in  the  morning. 

PHCEBE.  (Seriously.)  Is  that  all  you  would 
want  in  a  wife? 

HARRY.     I  shan't  be  hard  to  please. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Off.)  Ach !  Und  he  say  to  me, 
"Schmaltzy" — he  call  me  Schmaltzy — "Schmal- 
tzy," he  say,  "you  are  a  dam  fool !" 

(At  the  sound  of  SIR  ADALBERT'S  voice  the 
young  people  move  apart.  PHCEBE  to 
fireplace. ) 

PHCEBE.     Here's  Father. 

(SiR  ADALBERT  enters.) 

(SiR  ADALBERT  is  rather  comical  in  ap- 
pearance. He  is  very  sportingly  got  up, 
kilts,  stockings  with  skene  d'hu  and  the 
latest  sort  of  shooting  coat.  He  has  slung 
round  him  a  stalking  telescope  in  a  well- 
polished  brown  case.  He  speaks  with  a 
German  accent.) 


17 

PHCEBE.  I  expect  you  want  your  tea,  daddy? 
(Crosses  to  bell  at  fireplace.} 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Very  genially.}  I  do.  I  hafe 
no  batience  with  dose  beoples  who  bretend 
to  despise  der  bleasures  of  der  table. 

HARRY.     Same  here,  Sir  Adalbert. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Unctuously.}  I  lofe  my  break- 
fast— I  lofe  my  lonch — I  lofe  my  tea — und 
I  adore  my  dinner.  If  I  was  dying,  I  think 
I  could  eat  a  dres-s-sed  cr-r-rab ! 

PHCEBE.  (Rings  bell.}  Daddy!  It  sounds  so 
greedy ! 

(Enter  FEWSON,  with  letters.} 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Come  here,  Phoebykins!  Gif 
your  old  fader  a  kiss. 

(PHCEBE  goes  to  her  father.  Bus:  then  back 
to  fireplace.  He  kisses  her  on  both  cheeks 
and  pinches  her  plump  little  chin,  chuck- 
ling and  grunting.} 

HARRY.     Talking  of  smiling  faces,  where  is  my 

father? 

SIR  ADALBERT.     He  went  for  a  walk  in  the  rain. 
PHCEBE.     Tea  here,  Fewson. 
FEWSON.     Very  good,  miss. 

(FEWSON  hands  one  letter  to  HARRY,  and  a 
big  pile  to  SIR  ADALBERT.  He  places  an- 
other pile  on  the  desk. } 


18  SEARCHLIGHTS 

For  Mr.  Elaine. 

SIR  ADALBERT.     Put  dem  on  der  table.     Haf 

dose  potted  sh-rimps  come  from  Appenrodt's  ? 

(Down  to  R.  of  table  R.) 
FEWSON.     I  think  so,  Sir  Adalbert. 
SIR  ADALBERT.     (Rubbing  his  hands.}     Good. 

Bring  dem  in  to  tea. 

FEWSON.     Yes,  Sir  Adalbert.     (Goes  out.) 
SIR  ADALBERT.     (To  HARRY.)    Harry,  you  like 

potted  shr-r-rimps — no  ? 
HARRY.     I  love  potted  shrimps. 

(SiR  ADALBERT  approaches  his  pile  of  letters, 
picks  them  up  with  a  grimace,  and  ex- 
amines them.) 

HARRY.     (Who  has  opened  his  letter.)    Phew- 

w-w!     (He  displays  a  long  bill.) 
PHOZBE.     What  a  bill ! 
HARRY.     Shan't  spoil  this  happy  time  by  looking 

at  it !  (Throws  it  into  the  fire.) 
PHCEBE.     Have  you  saved  enough  money  out  of 

your  allowance  to  pay  it? 
HARRY.     Not  a  bob ! 
PHCEBE.     You  foolish  boy ! 
HARRY.     Come   off   it!    How   much   have   you 

saved  out  of  your  allowance — eh  ? 
PHCEBE.     (Considering.)    Twenty-seven  pounds. 
HARRY.     I  say!  (Crosses  to  C.    To  SIR  ADAL- 


SEARCHLIGHTS  19 

BERT.)    Sir  Adalbert,  do  you  give  Phoebe  an 

enormous  allowance? 
SIR  ADALBERT.     I  gif  her  enough,  Harry.    Yes, 

yes.    (Opens  a  letter.) 
HARRY.     I'm  jolly  glad  I  haven't  to  deal  with 

your  correspondence. 
SIR  ADALBERT.     (Displaying  his  shrewdness  for 

the  first  time.)    Und  I  too  am  glad  you  have 

not,  my  young  friend. 
HARRY.     (To  PHCEBE.)      One  up  on  me,   eh? 

(Going  back  to  PHCEBE;  sits  on  club-fender.) 
(SiR  ADALBERT  betrays  excitement.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.     Bewundernswiirdig ! 

PHCEBE.     What  it  is,  daddy? 

SIR  ADALBERT.     Ach !  She  will  be  pleased — yes. 

PHCEBE.     Who  will  be  pleased? 

SIR  ADALBERT.     Und  he  deserve  it,  too. 

PHCEBE.     Who  deserves — what? 

SIR  ADALBERT.     (Mysteriously.)  Himmel!  (Goes 

to  door,  R.)    Dear  lady! 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Off.)   Yes,  Sir  Adalbert. 

(SiR  ADALBERT  comes  down,  chuckling,  as 
MRS.  ELAINE  enters,  a  tall,  distinguished 
woman,  one  who  has  been  a  beauty  in  her 
day.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.     (Attitude.)  My  congratulations. 
(Taps  letter.) 


20  SEARCHLIGHTS 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Smiling.)     Congratulations? 

(Enter  FEWSON  and  FOOTMAN.    They  pro- 
ceed to  set  out  on  the  table  a  very  varie- 
gated and  copious  tea:  cakes,  sandwiches, 
etc.    They  move  quietly  and  quickly.} 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Gott!  You  English!  Always 
you  bretend.  But  I — (taps  his  chest  smartly) 
— I  know.  Once  again,  my  congratulations ! 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Sincerely.)  Sir  Adalbert,  you 
are  very  knowing.  But  I  haven't  the  remotest 
idea  of  what  you  mean. 

SIR  ADALBERT.     Impossible! 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Why  do  you  congratulate  me  so 
— so  effusively? 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Staring  at  her.)  So!  (A  long- 
drawn  exclamation.)  Your  hosband  has  not 
told  you  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Lightly.)  My  husband  never 
bothers  me  with  details  about  his  business, 
thank  goodness ! 

SIR  ADALBERT.     (Confounded.)   But 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  suppose  he  has  made  another 
big  coup.  Congratulate  him,  not  me. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  My  wonderful  news  concerns 
you,  too. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Sharply.)    Concerns — me? 

SIR  ADALBERT.     Intimately. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Then  please  tell  me. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  21 

SIR  ADALBERT.     No,  no — your  hosband 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Impatiently.)  He  never  tells 
me  anything. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Surely,  surely  he  has  brebared 
you 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (More  and  more  curious.)  Pre- 
pared me — for  what  ? 

SIR  ADALBERT.     For  a  great  change. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  You  tantalize  me!  What  has 
happened  ? 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Chuckling.)  It  is  good  news, 
yes.  But  I  cannot  speak  here.  (Glances  at 
servants.)  After  tea,  we  will  find  an  obbor- 
tunity.  So!  (Chuckling.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Firmly.)  I  shan't  enjoy  my  tea 
unless  I  know  now.  Can't  you  show  me  your 
letter?  Didn't  this  exciting  news  come  in 
that? 

SIR  ADALBERT.  You  must  enjoy  your  tea.  In 
str-rict  confidence,  dear  lady. 

(He  hands  her  the  letter,  which  she  reads. 
Her  face  betrays  amazement.    She  rises. ) 

Ach !  Pardon !  I  see  you  did  not  know. 
MRS.  ELAINE.  I  am  simply  thunderstruck! 
SIR  ADALBERT.  (Rises.  Kisses  her  hand.)  You 

accept  my  congratulations  now,  my — lady  ? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     Thank  you  very  much. 
SIR  ADALBERT.     Now  you  will  enjoy  the  potted 


22  SEARCHLIGHTS 

shr-rimps!    Tea,  good  beoples,  tea!  (Goes  to 

door.}    Milly!  Milly! 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.     (Off.)    Yes,  Bertie. 
SIR  ADALBERT.     Tea,  my  lofe,  tea. 

(Enter  LADY  SCHMALTZ.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     Oh  dear!     It  can't  be  time 

to  eat  again ! 
SIR     ADALBERT.     My     Milly! — what     nonsense 

talk!    Sit  you  down! 

(The  MEN-SERVANTS  go  out.  LADY 
SCHMALTZ  sits  down,  smiling,  at  head  of 
table.  THE  OTHERS  gather  round  the 
table  and  sit.  SIR  ADALBERT,  at  L.  of 
table  L.C.,  points  triumphantly  at  the  dif- 
ferent plates.  MRS.  ELAINE  R.  of  table 
L.C.) 

Cucumber  sandwiches!  Salmon  sandwiches! 
Goose-liver  sandwiches !  Jam  sandwiches ! 
Honey  sandwiches !  Nice  leedle  cakes !  But- 
tered toast !  For  what  we  are  going  to  receive 
may  der  good  Gott  make  us  truly  thankful! 
(Sits.) 

HARRY.  Mother  looks  as  if  she  had  received 
something  pleasant  already.  (  Crosses  to  above 
SIR  ADALBERT'S  chair.) 

(PHCEBE  sits  on  club  fender.) 

MRS.  BLAINE.     I  have. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  23 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (In  a  nice  fat  voice.}  Tell 
us,  dear. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (With  a  certain  excitement.)  I'll 
tell  you  all  at  dinner.  (A  general  babble  fol- 
lows.} 

HARRY.     Here's  Father. 

(ELAINE  enters  from  the  verandah  R.  to  C. 
He  is  a  big  man,  very  quietly  dressed  in 
rough  tweeds.  For  an  instant,  as  he  re- 
moves his  cap,  he  stands  still,  surveying 
the  company  rather  grimly.} 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     (Anxiously.}    I  hope  you're 

not  wet,  Mr.  Elaine  ? 
ELAINE,     (Putting  down  cap  R.}     Nothing  to 

matter.    Have  the  letters  come? 
HARRY.     (Pointing.}  Your  pile  is  on  the  table. 
SIR   ADALBERT.     Business  before  bleasure,   my 

friendt.     Sit  you   down  und   eat  some  nice 

fr-r-resh  shr-r-rimps. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Why  don't  you  sit  down,  Robert  ? 
ELAINE.     (Tersely,  but  not  unpleasantly.}    Be- 
cause I  prefer  to  stand. 
HARRY.     (To  LADY  SCHMALTZ.)     Father  likes 

standing.    You  will  see  him  sit,  presently,  on 

— me. 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.     (Fatly.}    Do  let  me  give  you 

a  cup  of  tea. 
ELAINE.     I  never  touch  tea. 


24  SEARCHLIGHTS 

(He  walks  to  desk  R.,  picks  up  his  letters 
and  begins  to  open  them.  His  wife,  who 
is  watching  hint,  gives  a  slight  shrug  of 
the  shoulders.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Who  has  been  pouring  out 
the  tea.)  I  never  can  remember,  Harry, 
whether  you  take  sugar  or  not. 

HARRY.  Two  lumps.  Thanks.  (Takes  a  cup 
down  to  PHOZBE.) 

(LADY  SCHMALTZ  smiles  at  his  pleasant 
face.  HARRY  goes  down  to  PHCEBE  with 
tea  and  back  to  get  his  own  cup.) 

LADY   SCHMALTZ.     (To   MRS.    ELAINE.)      You 

know,  my  dear,  your  Harry  reminds  me  so 

of  somebody — and  I  can't  think  who  it  is. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Ignoring  the  question.)    Milly, 

dear,  how  old  is  your  Phoebe? 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.     I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  This 

is  September,  1913.    Phoebe  was  born 

HARRY.     I  know.    Judging  by  what  she's  saved, 

she  must  be   eighty.      (Looking  at  PHCEBE. 

Sits  in  wicker  chair  L.) 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.     There!   Harry  said  that  just 

like Who  does  he  remind  me  of? 

MRS.   ELAINE.      (Ignoring   the  question.)     Did 

you   go   to    Homburg   before   you    came    up 

here? 


SEARCHLIGHTS  25 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     No.    (Artlessly.)    The  truth 

is,  I  don't  like  Germans. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     My  dear  Milly! 
HARRY.     One  up  on  you,  Sir  Adalbert. 

(ELAINE  wanders  to  the  gun  cupboard, 
which  he  opens.  While  the  others  are 
talking,  he  takes  out  a  Mauser  rifle  and 
looks  at  it.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Genially,  and  waving  a  sand- 
wich.) Ach!  It  is  true,  I  am  Sherman-born. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  You  are  a  naturalized  English- 
man, Sir  Adalbert. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (With  rising  excitement.)  I 
am  more  English  than  the  English.  I  am 
Scotch!  So!  Und  I  make  my  money  in 
Shermany.  Milly  here,  she  think  that  the 
Shermans  hate  England. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  Yes;  they  do.  I'm  quite  sure 
they  do. 

SIR  ADALBERT.     That  is  untrue,  my  Milly. 

HARRY.     (To  PHCEBE.)     Now  he's  fairly  off! 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Excitedly.)  I  tell  you,  my 
f riendts,  that  Shermany — Shermany  stands  for 
what  we  English  stand  for:  peace  und  quiet, 
und  minding  our  own  business.  First  and  last, 
Shermany  means  peace. 

ELAINE.     No!    (Opens  breech.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.     What  was  that? 


26  SEARCHLIGHTS 

MRS.  ELAINE.    He  said — no!    It's  his  favorite 

monosyllable. 
SIR  ADALBERT.    Und  I  say  yes.    Und  I  tell  you 

anoder  thing.      In  science — yes,  und  Kultur — 

yes,  und  industry — the  arts  of  peace — Sher- 

many  is  on  top. 
ELAINE.     (In  a  deep  voice.)    She  makes  the  best 

rifles. 

(His  tone  challenges  attention.  Everybody 
looks  at  him.  ELAINE  surveys  those  pres- 
ent with  a  slightly  derisive  smile.  Finally, 
his  glance  rests  upon  SIR  ADALBERT.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.     (Complacently.}     Rifles — yes — 

und 

MRS.   ELAINE.     Why  does  Germany  make  the 

best  rifles,  Sir  Adalbert? 
SIR  ADALBERT.     In  de  interests  of  peace,  dear 

lady. 

ELAINE.     Um ! 
SIR   ADALBERT.     What   do   you   mean   now  by 

your  "Urn"? 

(ELAINE  looks  at  the  rifle.  When  he  speaks, 
there  is  no  animosity  in  his  tone,  but  a 
veiled  derision.) 

ELAINE.  I  think  that  these  rifles  may  be  put 
to  other  uses  than  killing  stags.  (Puts  rifle 
back. ) 


SEARCHLIGHTS  27 

SIR  ADALBERT.  I  don't  understand  you,  my 
friendt. 

ELAINE.  I  think  you  do,  Schmaltz.  (Back  to 
letters.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Helplessly.)  I'm  quite  sure 
I  don't 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Recovering  his  genial  man- 
ner.) Ach,  my  Milly,  I  will  exblain — Elaine. 
So!  I  haf  made  a  joke.  (Chuckles.)  He 
is  thinking  of  dot  so  foolish  play. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     What  play? 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Der  Engldnder's  Home.  I  see 
dot.  Milly  and  Phoebe  dey  come  with  me.  It 
make  me  sick  dot  play,  but —  (chuckling} — 
between  der  acts,  I  slip  out  to  Appenrodt's, 
und  I  eat  de  delicatessen,  und  I  say  to  myself, 
What  tosh! 

(ELAINE  stares  at  him,  making  no  reply. 
SIR  ADALBERT  begins  to  gesticulate.) 

ELAINE.  You  are  grievously  mistaken,  Schmaltz. 

(He  rises  to  his  full  height.)     Germany  wants 

war — we  don't. 
SIR  ADALBERT.     Elaine,  you  are  a  big  man.     I 

haf  a  sincere  respect  for  you,  my  friendt.    But 

you  take  away  my  appetites,  yes. 

(ELAINE  gathers  up  his  letters  and  moves 
to  door  R.) 


28  SEARCHLIGHTS 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Robert 

ELAINE.    Yes?     (At  door.') 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Are  you  coming  back  ? 

ELAINE.     After  I  have  changed  my  boots.  (  Goes 

out.) 
HARRY.    Um!  Another  cup  of  tea,  please. 

(PHCEBE  takes  cup  and  goes  up  to  LADY 
SCHMALTZ.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     I  do  wish  I  could  remember 

who  it  is  that  Harry  reminds  me  of.     (Pouring 

out  tea.) 

PHCEBE.     I  can  tell  you,  Mummie. 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.     Can  you? 
PHCEBE.     (Promptly.)     Captain  Arthur  Trevor, 

V.C. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     Of  course! 
HARRY.     (Lazily.')     Who  was  Captain  Arthur 

Trevor  ? 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.     I  knew  him  when  he  was 

your  age,  Harry.    Such  a  nice  fellow! 

(The  audience  will  remark  that  the  mention 
of  Trevor's  name  has  slightly  startled 
MRS.  ELAINE. 

MRS.  ELAINE,  (Nervously.)  I  knew  Captain 
Trevor.  (Turns  to  PHCEBE.)  But  he  died 
when  you  were  a  child,  Phcebe. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  29 

PHCEBE.  I  never  saw  Captain  Trevor,  but  I  have 
a  photograph  of  him,  which  belonged  to 
Mother.  I  commandeered  it  because  it  was  so 
ridiculously  like  Harry. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Quietly.)  Indeed?  You  must 
show  it  to  me. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Reminiscently.)  I  remem- 
ber that  photo. 

HARRY.  (Rising.)  I  think  I  shall  try  for  a 
fish  before  dinner.  (Crosses  to  rods  at  back, 
R.) 

SIR  ADLBERT.  (Rising.)  Good!  If  you  catch 
him,  I  will  help  to  eat  him.  Come ;  I  will  show 
you  der  best  pool.  (Crosses  to  R.) 

(HARRY  gets  together  his  tackle.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     A  little  exercise  will  do  you 

good,  dear. 

PHCEBE.     (Rising.)     I'll  order  a  ghillie. 
SIR  ADALBERT.     Yes,  yes. 

(PHOZBE  goes  out,  L.) 

What  a  good,  thoughtful  child ! 
HARRY.     Topping ! 

SIR  ADALBERT.    Wunderkind !    Gemuthlich ! 
HARRY.    Yah,  mein  Herr !  I'm  ready  if  you  are, 

Sir  Adalbert. 

SIR  ADALBERT.     Vorwarts ! 
HARRY.    You'll  take  a  rod,  too? 


30  SEARCHLIGHTS 

SIR  ADALBERT.  No,  my  young  friend;  I  will 
take  an  umbrella. 

(HARRY  goes  out  C.,  followed  by  SIR  ADAL- 
BERT. MRS.  ELAINE  rises,  crosses  R.,  takes 
cigarette  from  table  R.,  lights  it.} 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Comfortably.}  Do  have  an- 
other cup  of  tea,  Alice. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  No,  thank  you.  I  didn't  know 
you  knew  Arthur  Trevor. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  It  was  a  long  time  ago.  He 
used  to  chaff  me. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     He  played  with  me,  too. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  A  charming  fellow — quite  ir- 
resistible. Of  course,  I  was  much  older  than 
he  was.  I  fell  desperately  in  love  with  him! 
And  to  console  me  he  gave  me  his  photograph. 
I  know  now  why  your  dear  Harry  attracts 
me  so.  He  has  the  same  pleasant  little  ways 
with  him.  Afterwards,  Arthur  Trevor  changed, 
didn't  he?  Not  for  the  better.  (Sits  R.  of 
L.C.  table.} 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Sombrely.}    He  did,  indeed. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Purrs  on.}  Something 
soured  him.  Some  woman,  probably.  I  was 
told  that  he  exposed  himself  quite  too  reck- 
lessly during  the  Boer  War.  It  was  terrible 
his  being  shot  after  getting  the  V.C. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (With  a  shudder.}    Appalling! 


SEARCHLIGHTS  31 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Maternally.)  My  dear,  you 
look  positively  ill. 

MRS.  BLAINE.  It's  nothing.  (Rises  and  goes  to 
fireplace.)  Phoebe  mentioning  Arthur  Trevor 
so  suddenly  upset  me.  He  was  a  relation  of 
ours — which  may  perhaps  account  for  any  like- 
ness you  see  between  Harry  and  him. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  I'm  so  sorry.  Was  Arthur 
Trevor  related  to  you,  or  your  husband  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  To  me.  After  my  marriage  I 
lost  sight  of  him  for  four  years.  He  was  in 
India  with  his  regiment.  When  he  came  back 
he  had  changed  greatly,  as  you  say.  Then  he 
drifted  out  of  my  life  altogether.  If  my  hus- 
band comes  in,  will  you  please  tell  him  that 
I  shall  be  down  directly?  (Crossing  R.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     Certainly.    (Rising.) 

(MRS.  BLAINE  goes  out  R.  LADY  SCHMALTZ 
sings,  and  moves  to  chair  R.  of  L.C.  table; 
picks  up  a  little  cake  and  is  nibbling  at  it 
zvhen  PHCEBE  comes  in  L.,  carrying  a  big 
album,  which  she  places  on  the  table  R.) 

Phcebe,  darling. 
PHCEBE.     Yes,  Mummie? 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.     Come  here. 

(PHCEBE  kneels  by  LADY  SCHMALTZ.  LADY 
SCHMALTZ  holds  her  face  between  her 


32  SEARCHLIGHTS 

hands,  which  are  rather  heavily  ringed, 
and  kisses  the  girl  fondly.) 

PHCEBE.    Dear  Mummie ! 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  Have  you  anything  to  tell 
me? 

PHCEBE.     N-n-no. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Smiling  and  patting  her 
cheek.)  Oh!  He  has  not — er ? 

PHCEBE.     (Hastily.)     He  has  not. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     You  like  him,  dearest? 

PHCEBE.  (Nervously.)  I  can't  help  liking  him. 
Sometimes  I  wish  I  didn't.  (Rises.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.    Why? 

PHCEBE.  Don't  you  think  he's  a  wee  bit  selfish  ? 
(Gently  she  releases  herself,  rises,  and  goes 
back  to  table.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  My  dear!  All  young  men 
are  selfish — and  most  old  ones.  I  shall  lie 
down  for  half-an-hour.  (Crosses  to  door  R.) 
If  you  see  Mr.  Elaine,  tell  him  that  Mrs.  Elaine 
will  be  down  directly.  (She  drifts  out.) 

(PHCEBE  stands  still  for  a  moment,  half- 
pouting,  half-smiling.  Then  she  sits  at 
table,  and  opens  her  album.) 

(ELAINE  enters,  wearing  a  thinner  coat; 
crosses  C.  PHCEBE  looks  up.) 

PHCEBE.    Mother  asked  me  to  tell  you 


SEARCHLIGHTS  33 

ELAINE.  Yes;  I  met  Lady  Schmaltz  in  the 
hall.  (Comes  near  to  table.)  What  have  you 
got  there? 

PHCEBE.     My  album. 

ELAINE.     An  autograph  album? 

PHCEBE.  More  than  that.  I'll  show  you  what 
I  mean.  (Picks  out  a  cutting  from  an  illus- 
trated paper  and  holds  it  up  to  him.)  Who 
is  that? 

ELAINE.     (Examining  it.)    I  don't  know. 

PHGEBE,     (Jumping  up.)    It's  you. 

ELAINE.     Nonsense. 

PHCEBE.  Of  course  it's  not  really  you,  but  it's 
awfully  like  you.  Not  quite  so  stern  as 
you  are.  You — after  smoking  a  very  good 
cigar. 

ELAINE.  (Relaxing.)  Well,  upon  my  word, 
I  do  see  a  dim  resemblance. 

PHCEBE.  I  shall  stick  it  into  the  book,  and  you 
must  write  your  autograph  under  it,  and  some- 
thing original.  I've  a  most  awfully  funny  one 
of  Father.  I  cut  it  out  of  the  Sketch.  It's 
an  advertisement  for  whisky.  (Holds  up  the 
album.) 

ELAINE.     (Laughs.)    Is  he? 

PHCEBE.  Mr.  Elaine,  I  do  like  you  when  you 
joke.  But  the  gem  of  my  collection  is 
Harry. 

ELAINE.    Harry?    (Crosses  to  C.) 


34  SEARCHLIGHTS 

(PHCEBE  lays  down  the  album  and  turns 
over  some  pages;  she  finds  a  small  photo- 
graph.) 

PHCEBE.     (Holding  up  photo.)    Isn't  that  Harry 

to  the  very  life? 
ELAINE.     It  is  Harry. 
PHCEBE.     (Triumphantly.)    No,  it  isn't.    That's 

the  portrait  of  a  hero. 
ELAINE.     (Grimly.)    Then  it  is  not  Harry. 
PHCEBE.     This  is  a  picture  of  Captain  Arthur 

Trevor,  V.C. 
ELAINE.     (Harshly.)      What   are  you   saying? 

(Takes  photo.) 
PHCEBE.     (Surprised.)    It's  written  on  the  back. 

Look !  "Arthur  Trevor,  aetat  25." 
ELAINE.     (Sombrely.)     I  did  not  know  Arthur 

Trevor  when  he  was  twenty-five.     ( Gives  back 

photo.)    How  did  you  get  that  photo ? 
PHCEBE.     It  belonged  to  Mother.  (Putting  photo 

back. ) 

ELAINE.     (Absently.)    Did  it? 
PHCEBE.     Yes ;  and,  oddly  enough,  Mother  spoke 

of  the  likeness  to  Harry  at  tea.    Mrs.  Elaine 

was  so  interested. 
ELAINE.  Was  she? 
PHCEBE.  And  I  promised  to  show  her  this  old 

photo.    That's  why  I  brought  down  my  album. 

Couldn't  you  swear  it  was  Harry  ? 


SEARCHLIGHTS  35 

ELAINE.    Yes. 

(His  rather  unresponsive  tone  is  not  lost  on 
PHCEBE.) 

PHCEBE.     (Briskly.)     Now  for  your  autograph. 
(Takes  him  to  L.  of  table.    She  goes  R.  of 

table.) 
ELAINE.     You  really  want  it?  Where  do  I  write? 

(PHCEBE  links  his  arm  into  hers.  He  smiles 
pleasantly.  She  marches  him  to  the  desk, 
makes  him  sit  down,  selects  a  pen,  dips  it 
into  the  ink,  and  hands  it  to  him.) 

PHCEBE.     You  must  write  on  my  celebrity  page. 

Here  we  are !  Look  at  that !  (Sitting  on  table.) 
ELAINE.     (Reading   aloud.)      "The    Queen    of 

Song."  What  does  her  Majesty  write  for  you? 
PHCEBE.     (Quoting.)     "A  beautiful  voice  is  the 

golden  gift  of  God." 
ELAINE.  Um.  Is  it? 
PHCEBE.  Of  course  it  is.  Now,  you  write  there, 

please.    Something  characteristic. 
ELAINE.     ( Writes  rapidly. )    How  will  this  do  ? 
PHCEBE.     (Reads.)     "God's  most  merciful  gift 

may    be — silence."       (Delightedly.)       That's 

simply   splendid!    Most  characteristic!    Now 

for  your  signature. 

(He  writes  it.) 


36  SEARCHLIGHTS 

What  a  fine  signature !    It  means  a  lot,  doesn't 

it? 

ELAINE.     At  the  bottom  of  a  cheque? 
PHCEBE.     I  mean,  there's  tremendous  character 

in  it. 
ELAINE.     (Amused  and  relaxing.)  Can  you  read 

character  by  handwriting  ? 
PHCEBE.     (Modestly.)     A  little. 
ELAINE.     Read  mine. 

(She,  still  sitting  on  table,  bends  over  the 
album.     ELAINE  leans  back  in  his  chair.) 

PHCEBE.  You  are  very  business-like.  Every 
letter  is  firmly  and  carefully  formed.  You 
are  not  a  bit  conceited.  No  flourishes.  I  see 
tenacity,  order,  self-restraint,  great  will-power, 
and  feeling. 

ELAINE.     (Sharply.)    Feeling? 

PHCEBE.  You  feel  things  deeply,  and  you  sup- 
press your  feelings. 

ELAINE.  (Challenged.)  You're  a  very  sharp 
young  lady.  Do  you  divine  this  by  my  hand- 
writing ? 

PHCEBE.  (Rises  from  the  desk,  and  looks  down 
upon  him.)  I  won't  fib.  I  divined  it  just  now. 
When  you  mentioned  Captain  Trevor's  name. 
Your  voice  shook  a  little.  He  died  splendidly, 
didn't  he? 

(He  nods  gravely.) 


SEARCHLIGHTS  37 

And  you  were  thinking  of  that,  weren't  you? 

ELAINE.  (Slowly.)  I  was  thinking  that  death 
in  battle  is — purging. 

PHOEBE.     (Surprised.)     Purging? 

ELAINE.     It  wipes  out  all  stains. 

PHGEBE.     (Gravely.)     Was  there  any  stain ? 

ELAINE.  Arthur  Trevor  was  a  man  of  thirty- 
five  when  he  died.  (With  a  lighter  manner.) 
Now,  let  me  read  your  character. 

(She  sits  R.  of  table,  looks  at  him  ingenu- 
ously. He  eyes  her  from  head  to  foot, 
slowly  and  searchingly.) 

PHOZBE.  (With  a  tiny  gasp.)  Mr.  Elaine,  this 
is  rather  an  ordeal. 

ELAINE.  (Kindly.)  From  which  you  need  not 
shrink.  You  are  quick-witted,  sympathetic, 
affectionate,  loyal,  and  dangerously  senti- 
mental. 

PHOEBE.     (With  a  grimace.)     Sentimental? 

ELAINE.  I  use  the  word  in  its  best  sense.  God 
help  the  woman  who  is  without  sentiment,  and 
God  help  the  woman  who  has  it  in — excess. 

(He.  speaks  slowly,  weighing  his  words,  re- 
garding her  with  a  kindly  smile,  which 
reveals  the  humanity  in  the  man  generally 
reckoned  to  be  hard  and  unsympathetic.) 

So!    (Rises.)    Beware!    (Pats  her  cheek.  He 


207182 


38  SEARCHLIGHTS 

holds  up  a  minatory  forefinger.)     And  now, 

my  dear,  do  me  a  favour. 
PHCEBE.     With  pleasure. 
ELAINE.     (Resuming  his  cold  voice.)     My  wife 

wishes  to  speak  to  me;  and  as  it's  cleared  up, 

I  want  to  go  out  again.    Will  you  tell  her  I'm 

here? 
PHCEBE.     Of  course  I  will.  (She  runs  out.) 

(At  once  BLAINE'J  manner  changes.  He 
becomes  alert,  watchful.  He  listens  for  an 
instant,  and  then  walks  to  the  album,  and 
opens  it.  He  takes  the  photograph  of 
TREVOR,  stares  at  it  grimly,  and  then  puts 
it  into  his  pocket-book  and  pockets  it. 
After  a  pause,  he  hears  MRS.  ELAINE 
coming,  takes  a  paper,  sits  and  reads.) 

(MRS.  ELAINE  enters  R.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Rather  effusively.  Above  table.) 
Oh!  there  you  are,  my  dear  Robert. 

ELAINE.  (Without  rising.)  Lady  Schmaltz  said 
you  wished  to  speak  to  me. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Gaily.)  And  don't  you  wish 
to  speak  to  me?  (Playfully.)  What  an  actor 
you  are,  Robert !  Well,  is  it  in  the  paper  ? 

ELAINE.     In  the  paper? 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Why  do  you  tease  me? 

ELAINE.     (Quietly.)     But  I  am  not  teasing  you. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  39 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Coldly.)  You  have  no  special 
news  for  me?  (Warmly.)  Robert,  I  know. 
And  I  am  so  delighted,  so  proud  of  you. 

ELAINE,     Proud  of  me?    (Takes  cigarette.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Losing  her  warmth  of  man- 
ner.) Just  now,  Sir  Adalbert  showed  me  a 
letter  from  a  friend  of  his,  a  Privy  Councillor. 
You  are  to  be  offered  a  peerage.  I  congratu- 
late you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

ELAINE.  (Rises  and  goes  to  L.  of  L.C.  table 
and  lights  cigarette  while  speaking  slowly.) 
Privy  Councillors  can  be  indiscreet.  Yes;  I 
have  been  offered  a  barony. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     What  will  you  call  yourself  ? 

ELAINE.     I  have  no  liking  for  titles. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    (Amazed.)  What?  (Coming,  C.) 

ELAINE.  (Gravely.)  You  ought  to  be  aware 
that  I  dislike  them.  In  fact,  I — I  did  not 
intend  to  tell  you  of  this. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Confounded.  Crosses  to  L.C. 
table. )  You  are  offered  a  peerage,  and  you  in- 
tended to  keep  so  vital  a  matter  a  secret  from 
your  wife!  Why,  may  I  ask? 

ELAINE.  I  shall  refuse  this  honour.  (Sits  in 
arm-chair  above  fireplace.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Refuse  it!    Are  you  serious? 

(He  doesn't  answer.) 
Refuse  it!     Refuse  the  honour  for  which  I 


40  SEARCHLIGHTS 

have  worked  so  hard  for  ten  years!  (Coming 
to  front  of  table.} 

ELAINE.    You  worked  for  it? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Fiercely.)  Yes — yes.  I  have 
played  your  game,  not  my  own.  (With  in- 
creasing temper.)  Oh!  those  boring  din- 
ners to  your  dull  business  friends — those 
dreary  receptions  to  advance  your  interests, 
not  mine.  What  a  treadmill!  I  tell  you 
that  you  owe  this  honour  very  largely  to — 
me! 

ELAINE.  Indeed!  I  fear  that  I  must  refuse  it, 
just  the  same. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     You — can't! 

ELAINE.     (With  finality.)     I  shall. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Exasperated  almost  beyond  en- 
durance. )  But  why  ?  Give  me  a  reason — any 
reason ! 

ELAINE.  I  have  nothing  in  common  with  the 
aristocracy. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     You  have  me. 

ELAINE.     True.    That  is  quite  enough. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  You  will  drive  me  mad!  (Sits 
L.C.)  I  believe  that  you  are  talking  this 
nonsense  on  purpose  to  annoy  me. 

ELAINE.  Take  care !  One  day  your  temper  will 
drive  you  to  say  something  you  will  regret 
all  your  life. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     I  say  that  your  reasons,  if  you 


SEARCHLIGHTS  41 

have  any,  are  absurd,  ridiculous.  Besides,  apart 

from  us,  there  is  Harry. 
ELAINE.     (Sombrely.)      I   have   not   forgotten 

Harry. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     You  are  defrauding  him! 
ELAINE.     Of  an  honour  he  is  not  likely  to  earn 

for  himself.     (Rises.)    You  must  allow  me  to 

do  as  I  please  in  this  matter. 

(He  stands  up  and  looks  into  fire.  She  stares 
at  him  and  then  approaches  him.  ) 

MRS.    ELAINE.     (More   temperately.    Rises   to 

•front  of  table.)     I  am  not  a  snob,  Robert, 

but  I  feel  very  strongly  about  this,  on  Harry's 

account. 
ELAINE.     I  daresay.  You  are  a  devoted  mother. 

I  regret  sometimes.  .  .  .  (Smiles  grimly.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Yes? 
ELAINE.     (Coldly.)     Yours  was  a  marriage  of 

convenience. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Be  honest!    Say — ours. 
ELAINE.     (Impassively.)     No. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     You  had  brains,  Robert;  I  had 

position,  the   connections  which  would   help 

you. 
ELAINE.     I  was  not  thinking  of  them  when  I 

asked  you  to  become  my  wife. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     I  don't  understand  you. 
ELAINE.    You  have  never  understood  me;  you 


42  SEARCHLIGHTS 

have  never  tried  to  understand  me.    It  is  too 

late  to  begin  now. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     You  spoke  of  regrets.    What  do 

you  regret? 
ELAINE.     The  five  unhappy  years  before  Harry 

was  born. 

(He  looks  at  her  keenly.  She  exhibits  the 
faintest  trace  of  confusion.  Her  teeth 
meet  upon  her  lozver  lip.  Then  swiftly 
she  assumes  her  normal  mask.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     How  oddly  you  say  that ! 

ELAINE.  (Very  quietly.)  I  remember  I  had 
given  up  hopes  of  a  child.  When  you  told  me, 
I  was  tremendously  surprised  and  pleased. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Acidly.)     You  didn't  show  it. 

ELAINE.     (Heavily.)    Perhaps  not.  And  since. . . 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Go  on! 

ELAINE.  I  have  wondered  whether  those  first 
five  years  when  I  was  working  and  you  were 
playing,  would  have  been  happier  if  Harry's 
arrival  had  been  less  belated.  Hence  my  regret. 
(Crosses  to  R.  for  cap.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (L.C.)  Robert!  If  you  are  sin- 
cere about  any  regrets  connected  with  those 
first  years — and  they  were  not  happy  years — 
this  is  an  opportunity  to  wipe  them  out.  For 
Harry's  sake,  please! 


SEARCHLIGHTS  43 

(He  stares  out,  as  if  he  were  attempting  a 
bird's-eye  glance  at  past,  present,  and 
future.) 

ELAINE.  (R.C.)  For  Harry's  sake!  If  you 
must  have  it,  Harry  is  the  obstacle. 

(She  betrays  for  the  second  time  a  hardly 
perceptible  agitation.) 

The  very  qualities  that  may  fit  a  man  to  serve 
his  country  as  a  peer  are  often  conspicuously 
absent  in  his  successor.  I  might  have  been 
tempted  to  accept  this  honour  if  Harry  had 
been  more  like  me. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     What  can  you  mean? 

ELAINE.  Harry  is  almost  abnormally  unlike  me. 
I  have  watched  in  vain  for  anything  in  Harry 
I  could  recognize  as  mine.  To-day,  when  I 
was  out  there  on  the  moors,  I  thought  it  all 
over,  and  decided  to  refuse  this  honour.  Robert 
Elaine  will  die  with  me.  You  have  given  me  a 
son,  but  not  a  successor.  It's  fine  again  now. 
I  am  going  out. 

(Exit  C.  to  L.  MRS.  ELAINE  is  left  alone  on 
the  stage.  Her  face  indicates  her  rage  and 
exasperation.  She  goes  to  the  desk,  R., 
sits,  picks  up  a  pen,  and  then  fiings  it 
down.  She  rises  as  PHCEBE  enters,  R.) 


44  SEARCHLIGHTS 

PHCEBE.     Has  Mr.  Elaine  gone  out? 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Yes. 

PHCEBE.     (Coming  down  to  album.}    I  have  got 

that  photo  to  show  you. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Absently.)    What  photo? 
PHCEBE.     Captain  Arthur  Trevor,  V.C. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Wincing.)     Oh!   Yes — I'd  like 

to  see  it. 

(PHCEBE  turns  over  the  pages  of  the  album, 
looking  for  it.) 

PHCEBE.     How  extraordinary! 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Extraordinary? 

PHCEBE.  It  was  here  ten  minutes  ago.  I  showed 
it  to  Mr.  Elaine.  (Laughs.}  He  thought  it 
was  Harry. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Nervously.}    Did  he? 

PHCEBE.     He  must  have  taken  it. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Absurd !    Why  should  he  take  it? 

PHCEBE.  (Confidingly.)  I  think  I  can  guess. 
He  was  very  moved.  Evidently  Captain  Trevor 
was  his  friend.  And,  perhaps,  he  didn't  like 
my  joking  about  the  likeness  to  Harry.  (She 
shuts  up  the  album,  and  picks  it  up.} 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Sitting,  R.)  It's  of  no  con- 
sequence. 

(PHCEBE  glances  at  her  face  and  moves  to- 
wards the  door.} 


SEARCHLIGHTS  45 

Phoebe,  dear — 

PHCEBE.     (Pausing  at  door.)     Yes? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Lightly.)    Don't  mention  this  to 

Mr.  Elaine. 
PHCEBE.     Of   course   not.     He   suppresses   his 

feelings,  doesn't  he? 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Yes. 

(PHCEBE  goes,  humming.  MRS.  ELAINE  be- 
trays slight  agitation.  She  rises,  crosses 
to  the  fireplace,  and  is  staring  into  the 
glowing  embers,  as  the  CURTAIN  falls.) 


ACT  II 

SCENE:  Elaine's  Library,  at  his  house  in  the 
country. 

TIME:   Ten  months  later,  July,  1914. 

CURTAIN  discloses  a  handsome  but  rather  aus- 
terely furnished  room.  There  are  many 
books,  a  few  engravings,  and  a  massive  desk 
is  piled  high  with  pamphlets  and  papers  L. 
A  sofa  is  down  R.  There  are  windows  C., 
open,  disclosing  a  moonlit  garden  scene  and 
a  terrace  outside.  Big  mahogany  doors  L. 
lead  to  the  drawing-room.  Fire-place  R.  and 
big  single  door  down  R. 

At  a  card-table  L.C.,  ELAINE  and  SIR  ADALBERT 
are  playing  piquet.  From  the  drawing-room 
comes  the  sound  of  a  piano.  Both  men  are 
in  evening  dress.  Chesterfield  R.  C.  Round 
table  at  back  of  it  with  tray  of  drinks. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (L.,  looking  at  his  hand.}  I 
have  got  you  this  time,  my  friend.  You  are 
ausgespielt!  I  haf  a  point  of  six. 

ELAINE.  (R.,  glancing  at  his  scoring-card.)  Not 
good. 

46 


SEARCHLIGHTS  47 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Ach!  You  haf  kept  dose  dam 
diamonds!  Himmel!!!  My  sixieme  in  clubs 
no  good,  hein? 

ELAINE.    Not  a  bit ! 

SIR  ADALBERT.  You  are  lucky,  Elaine!  But  al- 
ways, always  you  are  lucky. 

(He  throws  down  the  king  of  clubs  with  a 
gesture  of  annoyance.) 

ELAINE.  (Counting  his  hand}.  A  septieme  in 
diamonds,  headed  by  the  ace.  Seven  and  sev- 
enteen make  twenty-four.  Fourteen  aces — 
ninety-eight. 

(SCHMALTZ    puts    down    king    of    clubs. 

ELAINE  covers  king  with  his  ace.) 
Ninety-nine.     (Lays  down  seven  diamonds.) 
One  hundred  and  six. 

(SiR     ADALBERT     discards     seven     cards. 
ELAINE  plays  his  two  aces.) 

One  hundred  and  eight.  Give  you  the  rest.  One 
hundred  and  eighteen.  (Picks  up  scoring 
card. )  Big  hand !  You're  rubiconed,  Schmaltz. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Adding  up  his  score.)  Ninety- 
eight  ! 

ELAINE.    Three  hundred  and  forty-seven. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Siebenteen  pounds,  sieben  shil- 
lings. Gott!  I  most  send  you  a  cheque, 
Elaine. 


48  SEARCHLIGHTS 

ELAINE.    Give  you  your  revenge? 
SIR  ADALBERT.     (Getting  up.}    No,  no. 
ELAINE.     (Rising.)    Have  a  cigar? 
SIR  ADALBERT.     I  don't  mind  if  I  do.     Your 
cigars  are  good. 

(BLAINE  goes  to  round  table  R.C.  He  gets 
box,  and  offers  it  to  SIR  ADALBERT,  who 
selects  a  cigar.  While  BLAINE  is  fetching 
the  cigars  SIR  ADALBERT  stands  C.,  listen- 
ing to  the  music.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  My  leetle  Phoebe !  She  play  fine, 
hein? 

BLAINE.  Almost  professionally.  (Hands  cut- 
ter.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Shermany,  my  friend.  You  haf 
to  go  to  Shermany  for  music,  yes.  Und  many 
oder  things,  yes.  (Puffs  contentedly,  goes  to 
fireplace  R.  and  lights  cigar.) 

BLAINE.     Yes.    Waiters. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Sinking  into  settee.)  Elaine,! 
should  like  fine  to  interest  you  more  in  Sher- 
many. 

ELAINE.  (Slowly.)  I  am  profoundly  interested 
in  Germany. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  But  you  put  no  money  into  Sher- 
man enterprises. 

BLAINE.    Not  a  farthing. 

SIR  ADALBERT.     (Sits  on  couch.)     Ach!     You 


SEARCHLIGHTS  49 

believe  all  der  nonsense-talk  about  war.  It  is 
foolishness,  Elaine,  dam  foolishness.  I  like  to 
bet  you  a  tausand  pounds  about  that. 

BLAINE.    You've  lost  seventeen  already. 

SIR  ADALBERT.    Himmel !    Yes. 

BLAINE.     You  have   no  interests  outside  Ger- 


many 


SIR  ADALBERT.  (Beaming.)  No,  no.  I  put  my 
eggs  in  one  basket,  my  friendt,  und  I  watch 
that  basket.  (Hastens  to  double  doors  L., 
opens  one  and  applauds  loudly.)  Bravo! 
Bravo!  Beautiful!  Wunderschon!  (Ad- 
dressing. PHCEBE  off.)  I  haf  lost  siebenteen 
pounds,  but  I  forget  it  when  she  play — 
Phoebe,  my  little  Phcebe! 

BLAINE.     (Tinkles  glass.)     Have  a  drink? 

SIR  ADALBERT.    A  drink? 

BLAINE.  You  will  find  two  kinds  of  beer  over 
there — light  and  dark. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Dunkel  und  Hell!  (Crosses  to 
table  R.C.) 

BLAINE.    I  suppose  you  take  Hell.    (Crosses  C.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Going  to  tray.)  Why,  my 
friendt  ? 

BLAINE.  (Drily.)  As  a  change.  You  don't  get 
it  at  home.  (Crosses  to  fireplace  R.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  But  I  do.  Ach!  it  is  a  joke! 
(Laughs.)  (Calls.)  Milly!  Phcebe!  Come 
you  here.  I  haf  a  joke. 


50  SEARCHLIGHTS 

ELAINE.  (Hastily.)  Don't  repeat  that  silly  joke, 
Schmaltz. 

(Enter  LADY  SCHMALTZ,  MRS.  ELAINE, 
PHCEBE,  and  HARRY.  LADY  SCHMALTZ  to 
head  of  couch,  MRS.  ELAINE  to  card-table, 
HARRY  to  desk.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Uncorking  his  bottle.)  It  is  a 
good  joke,  Elaine,  and  you  make  few  jokes — 
hem?  Milly,  Phoebe,  listen  to  my  joke!  (Ad- 
dresses the  women. )  My  good  f  riendt,  know- 
ing that  when  I  hear  Tannhduser  I  want  to 
drink  nice  Sherman  beer,  provides  me  with  two 
kinds — Dunkel  und  Hell.  Und  den  he  say: 
I  subbose 

ELAINE.     Schmaltz !    Please ! 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Go  on,  Sir  Adalbert.  My  hus- 
band's jokes  are  rare  indeed. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  So  gomblimentary,  too.  He  say : 
I  subbose  you  take  Hell.  Und  I  say:  Why? 
Und  he  say:  Because  you  never  get  Hell  at 
home.  (Doubles  himself  up  with  laughter.) 
It  was  dam  funny,  and  dam  gomblimentary. 
(Drinks.) 

HARRY.    Good  for  you,  Sir  Adalbert. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Helplessly.)  I  am  so  stupid. 
I  don't  see  the  joke.  Bertie  does  get  Hell  at 
home.  We  are  never  without  it.  I  order  it 
direct  from  Bavaria. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  51 

(HARRY  and  PHCEBE  laugh.) 

What  are  they  laughing  at? 
SIR  ADALBERT.    I  can't  think. 

HARRY.     (At  window.)     I  say,  Phcebe 

PHCEBE.    Yes? 
HARRY.     Come  on  out. 

(PHCEBE  crosses  up  R.) 

ELAINE.  Harry,  ask  Tremlett  if  there's  a  tele- 
gram for  me.  (HARRY  rings  bell  above  fire- 
place. ) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Anxiously.)  Phcebykins,  der 
dew  is  heavy. 

HARRY.     I'll  keep  off  the  grass,  Sir  Adalbert. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Winks  comically.)  I  dond't 
tink! 

(Enter  TREMLETT  L.) 

TREMLETT.    Yes,  sir? 

HARRY.    Mr.  Blaine  wants  to  know  if  there's  a 

telegram  for  him. 

TREMLETT.     (To  BLAINE.)     No,  sir.     (Exit.) 
HARRY.    No,  sir.    Come  on,  Phoebe. 

(HARRY  and  PHCEBE  go  out  together  C.  to 
L.) 

ELAINE.  Have  a  rubber?  (Crosses  to  card- 
table.) 


52  SEARCHLIGHTS 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (To  LADY  SCHMALTZ.)     Would 

you  like  a  rubber? 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.    I  play  so  badly,  my  dear. 
SIR  ADALBERT.    You  can  play  with  me,  my  Milly. 

I  dond't  care.     Her  blunders — Himmel!  dey 

make  me  laugh.    (Turns  to  MRS.  ELAINE.) 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.    I  don't  like  to  be  laughed  at, 

Bertie.     (Sits  on  settee.) 
SIR  ADALBERT.     (Finishes  his  beer.)   Good.  We 

make  conversations  instead.     (Crosses  to  fire- 
place.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Crosses  to  couch  head.)     Sir 

Adalbert 

SIR  ADALBERT.    Dear  lady,  yes? 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Are  you  at  all  anxious  about  this 

Servian  question? 
SIR   ADALBERT.     All   anxieties   is   der   Teufel! 

When  I  am  anxious  I  cannot  sleep,  no.    Und 

when  I  cannot  sleep  I  lose  my  appetites,  so! 

Und  when  I  lose  my  appetites,  I  am  no  man. 

But  my  poor  Elaine,  he  is   funksticks,  yes. 

(Chuckles.) 

(SiR  ADALBERT  crosses  to  R.  of  card-table. 
MRS.  ELAINE  sits  on  arm  of  couch.) 

ELAINE.    I  am.     (He  has  sat  down  to  card-table 

and  begins  to  lay  out  a  patience.) 
SIR  ADALBERT.     (Beaming  at  everyone.)     I  do 


SEARCHLIGHTS  53 

not  understand!  you,  Elaine.  You  are  so  dif- 
ferent from  me. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    He  is. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Dot  beerage — hein  ?  You  refuse 
it!  Vyso? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Sarcastically.}  He  has  nothing 
in  common  with  the  aristocracy. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  I  vhas  proudt,  dear  lady,  when 
dey  make  me  Knight  of  the  Victorian  Order. 
I  jump  at  it. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  It  set  the  seal  on  your  naturaliza- 
tion papers. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Very  expansively.)  For  my- 
self I  care  leetle ;  but  it  please  Milly  to  be  mi- 
ladi.  She  jump  at  it. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.    Bertie,  I  never  jump! 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Not  now,  my  Milly.  (To 
ELAINE.)  And  you  haf  a  fine  son,  a  nice  young 
man.  I  like  'im,  yes,  your  Harry. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (With  feeling.)  Thank  you,  Sir 
Adalbert.  (Goes  to  fireplace.)  Harry  has  a 
very  warm  regard  for  you  and  yours. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Staring  at  ELAINE,  who  is  tran- 
quilly playing  Patience.)  Ach!  It  beats  me 
that  you  do  not  tink  of  der  family,  der  unit  of 
national  life.  So !  Dat  dam  silly  game  interest 
you,  hein? 

ELAINE.    Patience? — it  does. 

SIR  ADALBERT.     (Shrewdly,  winking  at  the  oth- 


54  SEARCHLIGHTS 

ers.)  I  know.  Because,  my  friendt,  you  play 
it  by  yourself.  Oho !  you  are  not  at  der  mercy 
of  a  stoopid  pardner — hein? 

ELAINE.  I  am  not.  Have  a  game  of  billiards — 
a  hundred  up?  (Rises,) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  You  gif  me  fifty  in  a  hundred, 
und  I  play  you  double  or  quits  for  der  sieben- 
teen  pounds. 

ELAINE.    Certainly. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Rises.)  Milly!  Send  Phceby- 
kins  to  bed  soon.  She  must  haf  her  beauty- 
sleeps. 

ELAINE.    Another  drink ?     (Up  at  door.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  No— yes.  I  take  'em  to  der  bil- 
liard-room. 

(As  ELAINE  goes  out  L.,  SIR  ADALBERT 
seizes  a  small  bottle  of  lager,  brandishes 
it,  and  follows  his  host.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Sir  Adalbert 

SIR  ADALBERT.    (At  door.)    Dear  lady? 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Hadn't  you  better  take  a  glass, 

too? 
SIR  ADALBERT.    No ;  I  drink  out  of  der  bottle.    It 

keep  me  young. 

(He  goes  out  L.,  chuckling.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  He  is  wrapped  up  in  you  and 
Phoebe,  Milly. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  55 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     (Comfortably}.     Bless  him! 

MRS.  ELAINE.    He  doesn't  get  hell  at  home. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  But  he  does!  Oh-h-h!  I  see 
Bertie's  joke.  (Laughs.) 

MRS.  BLAINE.     It  was  Robert's  joke. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  How  dense  of  me,  to  be  sure ! 
I  must  try  to  remember  that,  dear. 

MRS.  BLAINE.    I  must  try  to  forget  it. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Mildly  surprised  at  the  tone 
of  her  hostess.)  Why,  Alice,  you 

MRS.  BLAINE.  (Sits  R.  of  LADY  SCHMALTZ  on 
couch.)  I  shall  not  pretend  with  you.  Robert 
wished  Sir  Adalbert  to  infer  that  I — I  made 
home  life  impossible.  He  wanted  to  get  his 
knife  into  me. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Soothingly.)  No,  no. 
(Shakes  head.) 

MRS.  BLAINE.  (Vehemently.}  And  it's  true — 
true.  Life  in  this  house  is  becoming  more  in- 
tolerable every  day.  The  servants  notice  it. 
All  my  intimate  friends  know  it,  and  pity  me 
behind  my  back. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.    Shush-h-h! 

MRS.  BLAINE.  And  I  am  helpless.  I  can 
do  nothing.  I  would  leave  him  to-mor- 
row  

LADY  SCHMALTZ.    Alice! 

MRS.  BLAINE.  — if  it  were  not  for  Harry.  It 
is — (rises  and  goes  C.) — hell  here — hell  for 


56  SEARCHLIGHTS 

Harry,  hell  for  him,  and  hell  for  me.    (Breaks 

down.) 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Terribly  flustered  and  quite 

helpless. )    Alice !    My  dear !    What  can  I  say  ? 

I — I (Puts  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and 

gulps.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.  I  am  a  fool,  and  a  beast  to  inflict 

my    troubles   on   you.     (Dabs  fiercely  at  her 

eyes.)     But  it  was  the  sight  of  your  simple 

happiness  which  broke  me  up.    It's  over. 

(She  pats  LADY  SCHMALTZ  on  the  shoulder. 
LADY  SCHMALTZ  sobs.) 

It  is  sweet  of  you  to  be  sorry  for  me.    (Big  sob.) 
Milly — you  must  stop.    (Goes  to  back  of  couch.) 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.    Ica-c-can't!    (Sobs.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Half  laughing.)     I  shall  shake 
you,  if  you  don't. 

(She    gives    her    a    little    shake.       LADY 
SCHMALTZ  quivers  like  a  felly.) 

There ! 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     (Tearfully.)     I  had  better  go 

to  bed.     I  always  look  so  awful  when  I  cry. 

Yes ;  I'll  go  to  bed.     (Rises.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Going  C.,  contritely.)     Perhaps 

it  would  be  better.    Sir  Adalbert  would  never 

forgive  me. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  57 

(LADY  SCHMALTZ  moves  towards  the  door 
R.,  and  pauses.} 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     (Still  tearful.)    I  can't. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Can't  what? 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.    Go  to  bed. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Why  ever  not? 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.     Phoebe  is  in  the  garden.     I 

promised  Bertie.    And  I'm  sure  it's  very  damp 

out  there. 
MRS.  ELAINE.    It's  getting  very  damp  in  here. 

You  slip  off,  Milly.    I'll  look  after  Phoebe. 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.    You'll  call  her  in? 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Yes,  yes. 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.    At  once? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     Regardless  of  Harry's  feelings — 

at  once. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.    Then  I'll  go.     (She  turns.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.     Kiss  me,  dear,  and  forgive  me. 

(The  two  women  embrace  affectionately.) 

Good-night,  Milly. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.    Good-night,  Alice. 

(LADY  SCHMALTZ  goes  out  R.,  with  her 
handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  MRS.  ELAINE 
goes  to  little  table  R.  C.  She  takes  up  the 
cut-glass  decanter  of  brandy  and  looks  at 
it.  Obviously  she  is  tempted  to  fortify 
herself.  Then  she  makes  a  grimace,  shrugs 


58  SEARCHLIGHTS 

her  shoulders,  puts  down  the  decanter,  and 
walks  slowly  to  the  open  windows  C.  She 
stands  for  a  moment  staring  into  the 
moonlight.  She  steps  on  to  the  terrace, 
and  calls.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Coo-ee!     Coo-ee! 

HARRY.     (Off.)     Coo-ee! 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Come  in,  you  two. 

HARRY.     (Off.)    Not  much! 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Yes ;  be  good,  obedient  children. 

(She  comes  back,  with  a  kind  smile  on  her 
face. ) 

(HARRY  and  PHCEBE  enter.) 

(MRS.  ELAINE  sits  on  settee.    PHCEBE  stands 
by  table  by  settee.) 

HARRY.     (Genially.)     Shame!     (Goes  back  of 

couch  to  fireplace.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.    It's  half-past  eleven. 
PHCEBE.    Where's  Mother? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     Your  dear  mother  has  gone  to 

bed.     Quite  fagged  out.     Don't  disturb  her. 

She  made  me  promise  to  call  you  in.     She 

thought  you  might  catch  cold. 
HARRY.    We  weren't  cold,  were  we,  Phoebe? 
PHCEBE.    Mummie  is  a  darling  old  fuss-pot. 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Sir  Adalbert  is  playing  billiards. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  59 

(At  tray.    Offers  glass  to  PHCEBE.)    Will  you 

have  barley  water  or  lemonade? 
PHCEBE.      No,    thanks.      Good   night.      (Comes 

round  to  MRS.  ELAINE.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Kissing  her.)    Good  night,  you 

dear  little  thing. 
PHCEBE.     Good  night,  Harry.     (Holds  out  her 

hand. ) 
HARRY.     (C.)     Nighty-night. 

(He  opens  door  R.  PHCEBE  passes  him,  then 
turns.  He  moves  to  her,  and  hidden  by 
door  from  MRS.  ELAINE,  kisses  her  hand. ) 

(PHCEBE  goes  out  R.) 

(MRS.  ELAINE  sitting.  HARRY  wanders  to 
fireplace.  He  doesn't  look  at  his  mother, 
whose  eyes  are  keenly  set  upon  him.} 

MRS.   ELAINE.     (In  a  soft  voice.)     Was  it — 

warm — in  the  garden,  Harry? 
HARRY.    It  was  rather — snug. 
MRS.  ELAINE.    She  is  very  fond  of  you. 
HARRY.     (Gravely.)     She  is. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Sharply.)    You  are  not  playing 

with  her,  amusing  yourself  at  her  expense  ? 
HARRY.    (Crosses  C.)    I'm  in  a  hole,  Mother. 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Another? 
HARRY.      (Moodily.)     The  bottomless   pit  this 

time. 


60  SEARCHLIGHTS 

MRS.  ELAINE.    (Quietly.)    Tell  me. 

HARRY.  I  nestled  up  to  that  little  dear  to-night. 
I  very  nearly  came  to  grips  with  her,  but  .  .  . 

MRS.  ELAINE.    You  didn't? 

HARRY.    I  didn't. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Leaning  forward.)     Why  not? 

HARRY.    I  must  speak  to  Father  first. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Derisively.)  You  are  display- 
ing a  delicacy  and  nicety  of  behaviour  which  is 
refreshingly  old-fashioned. 

HARRY.  (Slowly.)  I  owe  three  thousand 
pounds — 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Harry! 

HARRY.  More  or  less. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Help! 

HARRY.  (Takes  cigarette  from  case.)  There  it 
is.  If  Father  will  stump  up,  I  can  marry 
Phoebe.  Unfortunately,  he  won't.  (Sits  R.  of 
card-table. )  Hence  my  allusion  to  the  bottom- 
less pit.  (Lights  cigarette.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Reflecting.)  Three  thousand 
pounds  is  a  scratch  of  the  pen  to  him. 

HARRY.  Last  time  he  paid  up  he  imposed  condi- 
tions. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  He  would !  (Rises  and  stands  by 
fire.) 

HARRY.  He  made  me  promise  that  I  would  not 
exceed  my  allowance.  He  was  rather  decent 
about  it. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  61 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Why  did  you  break  your  prom- 
ise? 

HARRY.  (Sits  on  head  of  settee.  Rises  and  goes 
to  couch.)  Because  I'm  a  fool.  You  see,  I 
wanted  clinkin'  good  polo  ponies.  Had  to  pay 
ready  for  'em.  So  I  tried  backing  dead  cer- 
tainties. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Which  were  left  on  the  post! 

HARRY.  (Grinning,  sits  on  couch.)  Rummy  go 
that  Father's  one  and  only  son  should  be  such 
a  mug! 

MRS.  ELAINE.    And  then?  (Sits  R.  of  HARRY.) 

HARRY.  I — er — accepted  a  very  pressin'  invita- 
tion to  call  upon  Mister — (gesture  indicating 
shape  of  large  nose) — Isaac  Gordon.  Once  in 
his  parlour — bif ! 

(MRS.  ELAINE  laughs.  So  does  HARRY.) 

HARRY.  I  say,  Mother,  Old  Gordon  Highlander 
does  know  a  soft  thing  when  he  sees  it.  He 
had  me — to  rights!  (Doubles  with  laughter, 
and  then  suddenly  stiffens  and  grows  grave  at 
sight  of  his  mother's  face.  She  rises  and  goes 
C.)  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  coldly? 

MRS.  ELAINE.    I  am  thinking  of  your  father. 

HARRY.  (Slips  down  on  settee.  Ruefully.)  So 
am  I,  by  Jove !  Well,  there  it  is !  I've  been  a 
fool,  but  I'm  not  knave  enough  to  propose 
marriage  to  Phcebe  with  this  over  my  head. 


62  SEARCHLIGHTS 

(MRS.  ELAINE  sits  on  arm  of  couch  and 
places  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Harry,  do  you  love  Phoebe  ? 

HARRY.    (Uneasily.)     She's  one  of  the  best. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Do  you  love  her? 

HARRY.  (Lying  full  length  on  settee.)  She'll 
make  me  a  topping  little  wife.  If  you  must 
have  it,  I'm  not  madly  in  love.  I  don't  love  her 
as  much  as  I  love  you.  (Looks  up  at  his 
mother.)  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  know 
that  I  could  be  madly  in  love  with  anybody. 
I'm  a  cool  sort  of  cove.  I've  made  up  my  mind 
that  this  marriage  will  be  the  saving  of  me. 
By  the  luck  of  things,  old  Schmaltzy  thinks 
Father  the  biggest  man  on  earth.  Milady  is 
fond  of  you.  Phoebe,  little  dear,  has  taken  a 
shine  to  me.  Bar  this  debt,  I've  a  sitter. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  will  speak  to  your  father. 
(Goes  C.) 

HARRY.  (Sits  up  quickly.)  I  say,  is  that  fair  on 
you? 

MRS.  ELAINE.    I'll  be  nice  to  him. 

HARRY.  (Gesture  of  winding  head  of  couch.) 
Wind  him  up,  eh? 

MRS.  ELAINE.     For  your  sake — yes. 

HARRY.    Will  you  speak  to  him  to-night? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  will.  Sir  Adalbert  is  an  early 
bird.  They'll  be  here  in  a  minute  or  two.  You 


SEARCHLIGHTS  63 

slip  off  with  Sir  Adalbert.  But  don't  go  to 
bed.  Hang  about  the  billiard-room,  because 
you  may  be  wanted. 

HARRY.  I  shall  be  wanted  right  enough.  (He 
beckons  her.  She  sits  L.  of  him.)  You  are  a 
dear.  I — I  wish  that  I  was  a  better  chap,  on 
your  account.  I  wish  that  I  was  more  like 
Father.  It's  odd,  isn't  it  ?  that  I've  none  of — 
of  his — what  d'you  call  it? — his — er — 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Chronic  capacity  for  coming  out 
on  top.  Cheer  up,  you  have  a  heart,  Harry, 
which  is  bigger  than  his  head. 

(He  kisses  her  again.    She  takes  his  hand.) 
That  is  what  counts  with  me. 

(She  has  been  lying  back  with  her  eyes  half 
shut,  as  if  she  were  gloating  over  his  ca- 
resses. Suddenly  she  turns,  listening.) 

I  hear  them  coming. 

(HARRY  moves  from  her,  and  leans  against 
the  mantelpiece.) 

HARRY.    You're  in  for  a  rotten  time,  Mother. 

(SiR  ADALBERT  enters  L.,  followed  by 
ELAINE,  who  goes  to  desk.  SIR  ADALBERT 
exhibits  exuberant  spirits.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.  I  beat  him !  I  beat  him !  Und 
we  are  quits !  I  play  der  game  of  my  life.  I 


64  SEARCHLIGHTS 

make  my  fifty  in  ten  minutes  und  I  drink  my 
beer.  Now  I  go  to  bed.  (Crossing  R.) 

HARRY.    Deutschland  uber  alles ! 

SIR  ADALBERT.     (Beaming.)    But  I  am  English. 

HARRY.    Gott  mit  uns ! 

SIR  ADALBERT.  You  haf  your  jokes,  Harry. 
Good-night,  everybody! 

HARRY.     (Going  to  door.)     Good-night. 

MRS.     ELAINE.       Good-night,     Sir     Adalbert. 

(Rises.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.    Good-night,  Elaine. 
ELAINE.    Good-night. 

(SiR  ADALBERT  goes  out  L.  HARRY  follows 
him  leisurely  and  comes  back  to  end  of 
couch  and  makes  gesture  of  winding  up 
ELAINE.  ELAINE  goes  to  his  desk  and  sits, 
turns  on  electric  lamp,  pushing  aside  some 
papers  with  the  air  of  a  man  about  to 
tackle  some  work.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (At  table  R.C.,  in  her  pleasantest 
voice.)  Shall  I  get  you  a  small  drink,  Robert? 

ELAINE.  (Half  turning  to  stare  at  her.)  Thanks, 
no.  Well,  yes,  a  very  small  one. 

(She  pours  out  whiskey  and  soda,  and  takes 
cigar  from  box.  As  she  fetches  the  drink 
he  watches  her  with  a  faint  smile  upon  his 
face.  She  brings  a  cigar  with  it.) 


SEARCHLIGHTS  65 

ELAINE.     (Taking  a  drink.)     Thank  you. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Cuts  cigar.)  A  cigar?  I  have 
cut  the  end. 

ELAINE.  Thanks.  (Takes  it.)  (She  strikes  the 
match,  and  he  takes  it.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Sir  Adalbert  beat  you!  (Up 
stage  end  of  desk.) 

ELAINE.  (Apparently  surrendering  to  her  pleas- 
ant manner.)  I  let  him. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Because  you  hate  robbing  a 
guest. 

ELAINE.  (With  a  laugh.)  Schmaltz  is  a  duffer 
at  everything — except  his  own  particular  job, 
and  he  doesn't  know  too  much  about  that. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  have  never  known  what  his  own 
particular  job  is. 

ELAINE.  He's  the  typical  German  man  of  busi- 
ness; capable  of  indefatigable  energy  and  un- 
limited enthusiasm.  Like  most  of  his  race,  he 
can  only  see  one  point  of  view.  He  believes  in 
Germany's  commercial  prosperity,  which  has 
been  phenomenal.  He  has  been  shrewd  enough 
to  invest  money  in  all  those  big  enterprises 
which  are  distinctively  Teuton.  And  he  is 
able  to  persuade  Englishmen  to  do  the  same. 
Schmaltz  has  negotiated  some  immense  loans. 
He  has  earned  huge  commissions.  And  every 
farthing  has  gone  back  to  Germany. 

MRS.   ELAINE.     How  clearly  you   put  things! 


66  SEARCHLIGHTS 

Thank  you,  Robert.    (He  turns  to  his  papers.) 

(C.)    Have  you  work  to  do  ? 
ELAINE.    I  have  always  work  to  do. 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Aren't  you  afraid  sometimes  of 

overworking  yourself  ? 
ELAINE.     (Intensely.)     Would  you  care — much 

— if  I  did?    (Turns  to  her.) 

(She   remains  silent,   nervously   regarding 
him.) 

I  am  a  fool  to  ask  that  question.  As  the  family 
bread-winner,  my  health  does  concern  you. 
Well,  I  am  what  the  doctors  call  "a  good  life." 
I  am  likely  to  make  old  bones.  (Resumes  writ- 
ing.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Protestingly.)     Robert! 

ELAINE.    Good-night. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Faltering.)  Robert,  I  have 
something  of  importance  to  say. 

ELAINE.  (Swings  round  sharply.)  I  thought 
so. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    What  do  you  mean  ? 

ELAINE.  I  ought  to  know  that  warning  purr  in 
your  voice  by  this  time.  You  want  something. 
What  is  it? 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Nothing. 

(He  laughs  incredulously.) 
Nothing — for  myself. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  67 

(He  stares  at  her.  She  does  not  meet  his 
keen  gaze.) 

ELAINE.    Harry  is  in  trouble  ? 

(She  winces  slightly,  because  he  speaks  so 
decidedly,  and  with  an  accent  of  contempt. 
Crosses  to  L.  side  of  desk.) 

MRS.   ELAINE.     (Faltering.)     How  sharp  you 

are! 
ELAINE.     Why  can't  he  come  straight  to  me? 

Why  does  he  send  you  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.    You  are  unjust  to  him,  and  mis- 
taken.   (Sits  L.  of  desk.)    Harry  is  no  coward. 

He  wanted  to  come  to  you,  but  I  asked  him  to 

let  me  speak  first. 
ELAINE.    Why?     (He  has  his  pen  in  his  hand. 

He  plays  with  it  impatiently.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.    He  is  so  young. 
ELAINE.     Twenty-five.     At  twenty-five   I   was 

earning  fifteen  hundred  a  year. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Trying  to  be  pleasant.)     But 

you  didn't  know  how  to  spend  money.     He 

does. 

ELAINE.  That  is  your  teaching,  not  mine. 
MRS.  ELAINE.  He  is  very  ignorant  of  you. 
ELAINE.  (Icily.)  Let  me  have  the  facts  as 

briefly  as  it  is  possible  for  a  woman  to  state 

them. 


68  SEARCHLIGHTS 

MRS.  ELAINE.    The  boy  is  in  debt. 

BLAINE.    Again?  (She  nods.)    How  much? 

MRS.  BLAINE.  He  owes  three  thousand  pounds, 
more  or  less — afraid  that  means  more.  You 
gave  £5,000  to  a  charity  the  other  day. 

BLAINE.    It  was  a  deserving  one. 

MRS.  BLAINE.  (Tartly.)  You  mean  you  won't 
help  him? 

BLAINE.  Not  in  that  way.  Does  Harry  owe 
this  money  to  tradesmen  who  can  wait? 

MRS.  BLAINE.    No — to  a  gentleman  who  won't. 

BLAINE.    To  whom? 

MRS.  BLAINE.    Mr.  Isaac  Gordon. 

BLAINE.     A  brother  Guardsman  ? 

MRS.  BLAINE.    A  money-lender. 

BLAINE.    Really!    Anything  else? 

MRS.  BLAINE.  Isn't  that  enough  for  the  mo- 
ment? 

BLAINE.  Quite  enough ;  but  I  can  tell  from  your 
manner  that  your  plans  for  Harry's  future  in- 
clude more  than  my  settling  his  debts. 

MRS.  BLAINE.  I  think  he  had  better  leave  the 
army.  It  leads  nowhere — except  to  Mr.  Gor- 
don. I  want  him  to  marry. 

BLAINE.    Marry!    Who  is  she?   Wait!    (Rises.) 

(She  is  about  to  speak.  He  silences  her 
with  a  gesture.  He  spreads  out  the  fin- 
gers of  his  right  hand,  obviously  checking 


SEARCHLIGHTS  69 

in  his  mind  certain  names.    Then  suddenly 
he  clenches  his  fist.) 

Phoebe  Schmaltz! 
MRS.   ELAINE.      (Rises.)     Yes.     Why  do  you 

frown  ? 
ELAINE.    The  last  woman  I  should  have  chosen 

for  him. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Her  father  is  a  friend  of  ours. 
ELAINE.      Exactly !      As    you    say,    a    friend. 

(Crosses  to  R.  C.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Phoebe  simply  adores  Harry.    Sir 
Adalbert  would  settle  an  immense  sum  on  her. 

(Crosses  to  L.  C.) 

ELAINE.    Does  Harry  adore  Phoebe? 
MRS.  ELAINE.    He  is  ready  to  marry  her. 
ELAINE.    That's  quite  another  thing. 

(Enter  TREMLETT,  with  telegram;  presents  it 
to  ELAINE.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.    A  telegram  at  this  hour ! 
TREMLETT.    By  special  messenger  from  London, 

ma'am. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    How  strange ! 
ELAINE.     (To  TREMLETT.)     No  answer.     Ask 

Mr.  Harry  to  come  here. 
TREMLETT.     (Going.    Stops.)     Mr.  Harry  is  in 


70  SEARCHLIGHTS 

the  billiard-room,  sir.     (Crosses  at  back  and 

exit  L.} 
MRS.  ELAINE.  (Rising.}  You  won't  be  hard  on 

Harry? 
ELAINE.  I  shall  listen  patiently  to  what  he  has  to 

say.    I  ask  you  to  listen  too. 

(She  goes  up  to  door,  hesitates,  turns  and 
comes  down  a  couple  of  steps.  Her  voice 
is  soft  and  caressing.} 

MRS.  ELAINE.    I  want  him  to  be  happy. 
ELAINE.      Because    you    have    been    unhappy? 

(Crosses  to  -fireplace  R.} 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Almost  inaudibly.}     Ye-es. 

ELAINE.  Your  logic  is  amazing.  If  a  marriage 
of  convenience  resulted  disastrously  for  you, 
why  do  you  anticipate  a  different  result  for 
your  son  ? 

(Enter  HARRY  L.;  goes  up  back  by  window; 
goes  to  table  R.C.,  winding  gesture;  pours 
out  drink.  MRS.  ELAINE  sits  L.  of  card- 
table.  ELAINE  reads  telegram  again, 
frowning  heavily;  puts  it  in  pocket.} 

(To  HARRY.)     Dutch  courage? 

HARRY.  I  didn't  funk  it,  sir.  I  wanted  Mother 
to  keep  out  of  it.  As  between  man  and 

man 


SEARCHLIGHTS  71 

ELAINE.    You  affirm  yourself  to  be  a  man? 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Robert! 

HARRY.  That's  all  right,  Mother.  I  don't  mind 
his  ragging  me.  I  wish  you'd  go  to  bed. 

(Crossing  and  sitting  R.  of  card-table,  puts 
glass  on  floor. R.,  puts  hands  in  pockets, 
sticks  legs  out.) 

(ELAINE  sits  on  couch  and  copies  him,  at 
which  he  draws  his  feet  in.) 

ELAINE.    You  are  in  debt  again? 
(He  nods.) 

Two  years  ago  I  paid  your  debts  in  full. 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Not  in  full. 
ELAINE,    What? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     He  hadn't  the  nerve  to  turn  in 

the  lot. 
ELAINE.     (Coldly.)    He  lied. 

(HARRY  takes  a  drink — first  drink;  keeps 
glass  in  hand.  He  faces  his  father  inge- 
nuously.) 

HARRY.  I  had  gone  to  a  money-lander  for  a 
couple  of  hundred ;  and  I  knew,  of  course,  that 
that  would  make  you  chatter  with  rage. 

ELAINE.    Indeed!    You  lied  deliberately? 

HARRY.  I  suppose  I  was  afraid  to  speak  all  the 
truth. 


72  SEARCHLIGHTS 

ELAINE.  I  paid  your  debts  upon  your  solemn 
pledge  to  me  that  you  would  not  incur  more. 
You  have  a  liberal  allowance.  I  warned  you 
that  if  you  broke  that  pledge,  I  should  not 
chatter  with  rage  and  then  pay  up,  but 

HARRY.  (Rising  towards  him.)  All  right.  You 
don't  mean  to  pay  up. 

ELAINE.    Have  you  anything  more  to  say? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Driven.)  I  have.  As  the  son 
of  a  very  rich  man — you  don't  understand ; 
you've  never  been  the  son  of  a  very  rich  man — 
Harry  was  expected  to  do  certain  things.  He 
played  polo  as  it's  played  in  his  regiment.  He 
raced  a  bit.  He  got  badly  hit.  He  went  to 

ELAINE.    Mr.  Gordon. 

HARRY.  (Second  drink;  then  puts  glass  on  tray.) 
Yes.  Now  I  want  to  chuck  it. 

ELAINE.    Chuck  the  Army? 

HARRY.    Rather  not !    Chuck  being  a  fool. 

ELAINE.  Your  mother  mentioned  your  leaving 
the  Army. 

HARRY.  (Ruefully.)  Oh !  I  say !  That's  a  bit 
thick.  (To  her.  Crosses  to  R.  of  card-table, 
sits.) 

(MRS.  ELAINE  takes  his  hand.   He  refuses 
her.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Well,  dear 

HARRY.    Of  course  there's  always  your  bank. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  73 

BLAINE.  (Derisively.)  What  do  you  think  you 
could  do  in  my  bank? 

MRS.  BLAINE.    Surely  he  could  help  you. 

BLAINE.  (Grimly.)  Harry  has  never  helped  me. 
Occasionally  I  have  asked  him  to  do  me  some 
small  service.  Invariably  he  rings  for  a  servant 
to  do  it. 

HARRY.    Sorry!     (Hands  in  pockets,  feet  out.) 

BLAINE.  What  do  you  think  you  would  be  worth 
to  me  in  the  bank? 

HARRY.    Hanged  if  I  know ! 

BLAINE.  I  will  tell  you.  You  are  fairly  intelli- 
gent; you  have  bad  manners — 

(HARRY  draws  his  feet  back.) 

and  plenty  of  cheek,  which  is  an  asset.  The 
energy  which  you  devote  to  the  pursuit  of 
pleasure  might  prove  of  value  to  me  if  you 
concentrated  it  on  business.  As  an  experi- 
ment, binding  upon  neither  party,  I  might  of- 
fer you  seventy-five  pounds  a  year. 

HARRY.  (Rising.)  Chuck  the  Brigade  for  that! 
Not  much !  ( Goes  down  L.  to  desk,  picks  up 
pen.) 

BLAINE.  It  is  not  easy  to  make  money,  Harry.  I 
understand  from  your  mother  that  you  contem- 
plate marrying  it. 

HARRY.    Phoebe  is  a  jolly  little  thing. 

BLAINE.    She  is. 


74  SEARCHLIGHTS 

HARRY.  (Warmly.)  I'm  glad  you  see  her  good 
points.  , 

ELAINE.    I  think  I  do. 

HARRY.  (Confidently.)  I'm  sure  we  should  hit 
it  off  and  be  as  happy  as  larks. 

ELAINE.    What? 

HARRY.  (Fluttering  his  hand.)  Larks.  (Sits 
on  desk,  feet  on  chair.)  Sir  Adalbert  would 
want  me  to  chuck  soldiering.  I  fancy  he  left 
the  happy  Fatherland  to  escape  conscription. 
If  I  did  go  into  the  bank — (pen  in  ear) — he 
would  give  me  Phoebe  at  once,  with  his  bless- 
ing. 

ELAINE.    And  something  more  substantial. 

HARRY.  (Flippantly.)  It  would  be  no  blessing 
without  that.  If  I  didn't  give  satisfaction  in 
the  bank,  I  could  clear  out.  ( Throws  pen  away. 
Gets  off  desk.)  I  could  help  old  Schmaltzy  a 
lot.  (Crosses  C.) 

(He  looks  quite  himself,  genially  cool  and 
self-possessed. 

ELAINE.    Help  "old  Schmaltzy"  in  his  office? 

HARRY.  (Turning  to  him  C.  quite  seriously.) 
No;  out  of  it!  He  has  a  deal  to  learn,  has 
Schmaltzy.  He  can't  run  his  deer  forest.  I 
could  take  charge  of  his  sporting  interests.  I 
could  buy  his  horses. 

ELAINE.    And  ride  them  ? 


SEARCHLIGHTS  75 

HARRY.  (At  table,  playing  with  glasses.)  You 
bet!  (Goes  up  C.)  He  would  leave  all  that 
to  me.  I'd  be  a  good  son  to  the  old  boy.  But 
I  must  pay  my  debts.  I  can't  ask  Phcebe's 
father  to  pay  'em. 

ELAINE.     I  believe  you — could. 

HARRY.  Anyway,  Phoebe  is  willing  enough. 
(Down  C.  a  little.') 

ELAINE.     (Sharply.)  You've  spoken  to  her ? 

HARRY.     Not  yet. 

ELAINE.     Don't. 

HARRY.     (Defiantly.')    Why  not? 

ELAINE.  (Rises,  to  fireplace.  Coldly.)  Because 
I  object  to  the  marriage. 

HARRY.  Well — I'm  damned !  And  you  won't  pay 
my  debts  ? 

ELAINE.     (Shakes  his  head.)    No. 

HARRY.  (Folds  his  arms.  R.C.)  You  can  queer 
my  pitch,  but  if  you  do — 

(ELAINE  raises  his  brows.) 

It  will  be  beastly — unpaternal.  I  leave  it  at 
that.  Good  night.  (Crosses  and  goes  out, 
whistling,  R.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Rises.)  Why  do  you  object 
to  Phoebe? 

ELAINE.  (Drily.)  I  don't  object  to  Phoebe.  I 
object  to  Harry.  If  Schmaltz  is  fool  enough  to 
support  Harry,  he  can.  I  wash  my  hands  of 


76  SEARCHLIGHTS 

this  detestable  marriage  of  convenience.     Let 

me  never  hear  it  mentioned  again.     (Walking 

backwards  and  forwards.  Goes  up  to  window.} 
MRS.   ELAINE.     (Much  agitated.)     You  are  a 

hard  man,  Robert. 
ELAINE.    You  have  often  said  so.    I  am  a  man 

of  my  word. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Approaching  and  touching  him 

at  C.}     Pay  the  boy's  debts! 
ELAINE.     (R.C.)    Why  don't  you  pay  them? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (L.C.}     I? 
ELAINE.     (Coldly.}    Those  pearls.  I  gave  some 

thousands   for  them.      Pearls   have  gone  up 

in  value.    Give  them  to  me.    I'll  sell  them  to 

settle  Harry's  debts,  and  hand  over  the  balance 

to  you. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (With  a  derisive  smile.}     I  am 

afraid,  Robert,  they  won't  fetch — much. 
ELAINE.     What  do  you  mean? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     I  sold  the  original  necklace  many 

years  ago.    These  are  sham. 
ELAINE.     (Astonished.}     Harry's  weakness  for 

getting  into  debt  comes  from  you. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     I  sold  them  to  pay  debts,  true, 

but  not  my  own  debts. 
ELAINE.     (Fiercely.}    Whose? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     My  father's. 
ELAINE.     My  wedding  gift! 
MRS.  ELAINE.     You  need  not  remind  me  of  that. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  77 

Yes ;  it  was  part  of  the  price  paid  for  me.  You 
bought  me,  Robert. 

ELAINE.  (Grimly.')  I  have  made  better  bar- 
gains since.  (Throws  cigarette  into  fire.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Trembling,  at  head  of  couch.) 
When  you  say  things  like  that,  you  make  me — 

ELAINE.     Go  on. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Intensely.)    Hate  you. 

ELAINE.  (Turning  to  her.)  You  hate  me  when 
I  refuse  to  gratify  your  wishes,  however  un- 
reasonable they  may  be.  (Sits  on  couch.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Excitedly.).  I  won't  be  crushed 
and  humiliated ! 

ELAINE.     Humiliated ! 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (To  head  of  couch.  Slowly.)  I 
have  it  in  my  power  to  humiliate  you.  (Pause.) 
Don't  drive  me  to  do  that!  I  ask  you  for  the 
last  time  to  help  Harry. 

ELAINE.     Because  he  is  your  son,  or  mine  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Evasively.)     He  is  our  son. 

ELAINE.  (Deliberately.)  There  have  been  mo- 
ments when  I  have  questioned  that.  Only 
the  children  of  love,  so  we  are  told,  take  after 
the  father.  Is  that  why  I  can  trace  no  re- 
semblance in  Harry  to  myself? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Excitedly.)  Will  you  help 
Harry? 

ELAINE.     (Icily.)     No. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     I  can  read  your  thoughts.   And, 


78  SEARCHLIGHTS 

as  usual,  you  are  right — right!     (She  laughs 
disdainfully,  carried  away  by  anger  and  dis- 
appointment.)     There  is  nothing  of  you  in 
Harry,  thank  God! 
ELAINE.     (Rising.)    That  was  my  impression. 

(They  face  each  other.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Violently.')  You  don't  yet  un- 
derstand. Harry  is  my  son,  not  yours. 

ELAINE.  (Slowly.)  He  is  Trevor's  son. 
(Pause.)  You  admit  that? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Violently.)  I  admit  it,  and 
glory  in  it — to  you.  There  is  not  a  drop  of 
your  cold  blood  in  Harry's  veins. 

(MRS.  ELAINE,  alarmed  at  her  own  words. 
ELAINE  crosses  to  the  writing-table,  opens 
drawer,  and  takes  up  a  sheet  of  paper. 
He  sits  down  and  writes  rapidly.) 

ELAINE.  If  Harry  is  not  my  son,  the  situation 
is  altered.  Sign  that  paper,  and  I  will  settle 
his  debts.  (Comes  back  slozvly  to  R.C.) 

(MRS.  ELAINE  goes  to  desk,  reads  paper 
without  taking  it.) 

(A  pause  follows.  MRS.  ELAINE  reads 
paper,  staring  at  it.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     "I  swear  that  my  husband  is  not 


SEARCHLIGHTS  79 

i 

the  father  of  my  son  Harry."  (Hoarsely.)  I 
don't  understand. 

ELAINE.  I  think  you  do.  I  have  never  under- 
rated your  intelligence  where  your  own  in- 
terests are  vitally  concerned.  ^ 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Falteringly,  sitting  at  desk.)  If 
I  sign  this  paper,  what  will  you  do  with  it? 
(Takes  up  pen  idly.) 

ELAINE.  Isn't  that  my  affair?  By  signing  it 
at  once  you  gain  your  end. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Still  sitting.)  In  a  moment  of 
anger  I  told  you  the  truth,  a  truth  which  I 
should  deny  publicly — (puts  down  pen) — so 
long  as  breath  remained  in  my  body.  Legally, 
Harry  is  your  son.  You  cannot  wash  your 
hands  of  him,  or  of  me,  by  signing  a  paltry 
cheque  for  £3,000.  (Rises.) 

ELAINE.     So  be  it ! 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  shall  push  on  this  marriage. 
Harry  must  leave  the  Army. 

(She  is  going  to  the  door  R.  He  stops  her 
at  C.) 

ELAINE.     (R.C.)     Wait! 

(She  stops  C.,  arrested  by  his  tone.  He  takes 
from  his  pocket  the  telegram.) 

This  telegram  is  in  cipher.  It  seems  that  I 
have  not  been  mistaken.  I  have  never  believed 


80  SEARCHLIGHTS 

in  the  chances  of  peace.  I  knew  that  Germany 
would  strike  with  all  her  strength  when  her 
hour  came.  It  has — come.  My  most  trusted 
agent  in  Berlin — he's  seldom  wrong — tells  me 
that  Germany  is  mobilising  secretly.  She  means 
war  with  France  and  Russia. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    War! 

ELAINE.  If  I  know  the  temper  of  this  country 
— and  I  do — we  shall  be  involved.  If  Harry 
sends  in  his  papers,  they  will  not  be  accepted. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Ah! 

ELAINE.     It  will  be  an  appalling  conflict. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     War !  It  can't  be ! 

ELAINE.  My  informant  knorvs.  If  a  force  is 
sent  out  of  this  country,  the  Guards  will  be 
amongst  the  first  to  go. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Overcome.}  Oh-h-h!  My  God! 
(Comes  up  C.,  then  turns.} 

(ELAINE  to  desk  and  sits.) 

(Entreatingly.)  Robert,  you  are  a  just  man. 
If  Harry  has  to  go,  release  him  from  this 
burden.  I'll  make  it  up  to  you.  (Hurriedly 
crossing  to  him.)  I  said  just  now  that  you 
bought  me,  as  you  have  bought  everything  that 
you  wanted.  I  was  dear  to  you  then.  Because 
of  that,  Robert,  be  kind  to  me  now.  I'll — I'll 

(She  breaks  off,  gasping.) 

ELAINE.    You  are  an  Englishwoman.    This  is  no 


SEARCHLIGHTS  81 

time  for  whimpering.  This  war  will  have  in- 
calculable effects  upon  all  of  us. 

(A  pause.) 

I  can  promise  you  this.  If  your  son  falls 
on  the  field  of  honour,  I  will  pay  his  debts. 
No  such  stain  shall  rest  upon  his  memory. 
Now — go!  (He  tears  up  telegram.') 

(As  MRS.  ELAINE  opens  door  R.) 
CURTAIN. 


ACT  III 

SCENE:  ELAINE'S  drawing-room  in  Portland 
Place. 

TIME:  October,  1914. 

CURTAIN  discloses  the  front  drawing-room.  It  is 
furnished  in  exquisite  taste,  a  fitting  back- 
ground for  a  distinguished  hostess.  Fire- 
place, L.  Settee  R.C.,  arm-chairs  L.C.,  and 
by  fire,  with  small  table  between  piano,  U.L. 
Big  doors  C.  open  into  the  back  drawing- 
room,  which  has  been  fitted  up  as  a  tempo- 
rary bedroom.  A  door  R.  opens  into  a  hand- 
some corridor. 

(ELAINE  is  alone  in  the  room,  walking  up 
and  down.  He  pauses  to  listen. ) 

(Enter  TREMLETT  R.,  from  corridor.) 

TREMLETT.     Mr.  Monypenny,   sir,  by   appoint- 
ment.   I  have  shown  him  into  the  library. 

ELAINE.     Very  good.  (TREMLETT  turns.)  Wait! 
Ask  him  to  come  up  here. 
82 


SEARCHLIGHTS  83 

(Business  till  MONYPENNY   is  announced. 
He  is  a  brisk,  rosy  little  solicitor.) 

TREMLETT.  (Announcing.}  Mr.  Monypenny. 
(Goes  out.) 

MONYPENNY.  (Effusively.)  My  dear  Sir 

(Shakes  hands.) 

ELAINE.  Morning,  Monypenny.  You  have  car- 
ried out  my  instructions  ? 

MONYPENNY.  (Professionally.)  Yes,  yes.  (Puts 
hat,  gloves,  and  bag  on  piano  L.,  and  produces 
a  blue  paper  from  bag.)  Mr.  Harry's  debts 
are  paid.  I  have  here  Mr.  Gordon's  receipt 
in  full.  (Hands  him  receipt.)  £3,751  9s  nd. 

ELAINE.  (Taking  it;  sitting  on  settee  R.C.) 
Thank  you.  Um!  Three  thousand  pounds — 
more  or  less. 

MONYPENNY.  (Genially.)  It  was  a  bit  more, 
but  youth  must  have  its  fling. 

ELAINE.  (Drily.)  Do  you  say  that  to  your 
own  son  ? 

MONYPENNY.  Ah!  Mr.  Elaine,  we  mustn't  be 
too  hard  on  our  soldier  lads.  This  war  has 
melted  many  a  heart.  Brightened  some  mean 
streets. 

ELAINE.     Has  it — in  London? 

MONYPENNY.  I've  seen  it  with  my  own  clients. 
Searchlights.  Searchlights  in  dark  places,  Mr. 
Elaine. 


84  SEARCHLIGHTS 

ELAINE.     Good  morning.     (Rises,  shakes  hands, 

goes  L.) 

MONYPENNY.     (Picking  up  hat,  etc.)  Well,  well, 
I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart.    I  heard 
that  Mr.  Harry  returned  last  night.  How  is  he  ? 
ELAINE.     The  doctor  is  with  him  now. 
MONYPENNY.     Indeed?    A  good  report,  I  trust? 
(Conies  C.) 

ELAINE.     I   have  not  heard   it  yet.      (Drily.) 

There  isn't  much  amiss. 
MONYPENNY.     I  am  rejoiced,  my  dear  sir;  re- 

joiced.   An  only  son!     So  valuable  a  young 

life! 
ELAINE.     (Pause.)      Good   morning.      (Shakes 

hands  again.) 

(MONYPENNY  moves  to  door.) 

MONYPENNY.  (At  door.)  Good  morning.  My 
heartiest  good  wishes  to  your  son.  These 
gallant  young  fellows!  Rather  expensive! 
Good  morning.  (Goes  out  R.) 

ELAINE.     Damned  old 


(ELAINE  crosses  to  writing-table  R.,  ex- 
amines receipt  and  puts  it  in  his  pocket. 
One  of  the  big  doors  C.  opens.  FIRMIN 
comes  in,  followed  by  MRS.  ELAINE,  who 
closes  door  softly.  FIRMIN  is  an  alert, 
middle-aged  doctor,  clean-shaven.) 


SEARCHLIGHTS  85 

ELAINE.     (Silently  awaiting  him.}     Well? 

FIRMIN.  (R.C.,  pleasantly.)  In  a  sense  it  is 
well. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (L.C.,  anxiously.)    In  a  sense? 

FIRMIN.  (Looking  from  husband  to  wife,  but 
finally  addressing  the  man.)  For  all  the  or- 
dinary purposes  of  life  your  son  will  recover, 
and  recover  soon. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Thank  God !  (Sits  in  arm-chair 
L.C.)  He  looked  better  than  I  expected  when 
I  met  him  at  Charing  Cross. 

FIRMIN.  (Sitting  in  small  chair  by  couch.  Lift- 
ing a  hand. )  At  the  same  time 

ELAINE.     Yes? 

FIRMIN  (With  finality.)  He  must  serve  his 
country  in  some  capacity  other  than  a  soldier. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Why?  Sunstroke  is  not  a  very 
serious  affair. 

FIRMIN.  (Professionally.)  Sunstroke,  followed 
by  typhoid  fever,  even  in  a  mild  form 

MRS.  ELAINE.  He  was  inoculated  before  he 
went  to  France. 

FIRMIN.  So  he  told  me.  Inoculation  is  not 
an  absolute  preventive.  The  sunstroke  was 
severe;  and  for  some  years  he  must  exercise 
discretion.  Never  overtire  himself.  That  is 
all. 

ELAINE.     He  will  have  to  leave  the  Army  ? 

FIRMIN.     He  must  go  before  his  Medical  Board. 


86  SEARCHLIGHTS 

But  their  decision  is  inevitable.  In  fact,  with- 
out vanity,  I  can  say  that  if  there  were  any 
doubt  in  a  cerebral  case  of  this  kind,  I  should 
probably  be  consulted. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     It  will  be  a  dreadful  blow  to  him. 

FIRMIN.  I  fear  so.  The  pipeclay  seems  to  be 
in  his  marrow.  He  has  an  excellent  constitu- 
tion— (rises,  looks  at  ELAINE) — like  his  father. 
I  will  call  again  in  three  days'  time. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Rises.)  Call  to-morrow,  Dr. 
Firmin. 

FIRMIN.  I  am  not  wanted.  It's  very  pleasant  to 
say  that.  (He  bows  formally.) 

(ELAINE  touches  electric  bell.    MRS.  ELAINE 
holds  out  her  hand.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     What  can  Harry  do  ? 

FIRMIN.  Um!  (Considers.)  I  suggest  his 
father's  bank. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Doctor,  would  this  sunstroke  pre- 
vent his  marriage? 

FIRMIN.  Marriage  would  be  a  capital  thing  for 
him,  and  keep  him  quiet.  Good-bye.  (Shakes 
hands.)  (Crosses  to  ELAINE.  Shakes  hands.) 
Marriage — paternal  responsibilities  keep  us  all 
quiet. 

(Exit  FIRMIN  R.) 
ELAINE.     You  will  tell  Harry? 


SEARCHLIGHTS  87 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Yes. 

(He  turns  to  leave  the  room.} 
Robert 

(Her  voice  indicates  anxiety  rather  than 
distress.  ELAINE  pauses  to  look  keenly 
at  her.) 

ELAINE.     (Kindly.)      Can   I    do   anything    for 

you? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     You  can,  but — you  won't.  (Goes 

on,  as  he  raises  his  brows  in  interrogation.) 

Phoebe  is  coming  here. 
ELAINE.     (Sharply.)    Phoebe  Schmaltz?    Why? 

(He  frowns.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     She  has  a  right  to  come. 
ELAINE.     (Approaching  nearer.)     A — right? 
MRS.  ELAINE.     Phoebe  and  Harry  are  engaged. 
ELAINE.     Without  my  knowledge ! 
MRS.    ELAINE.     I    thought    your    heart    would 
soften. 

(Exit  ELAINE.) 

(MRS.  ELAINE  makes  a  gesture,  goes  up  to 
C.  door  and  opens  it.) 

You  can  bring  him  in,  Nurse. 

(HARRY  appears.  He  is  in  a  dressing-gown, 
without  either  collar  or  tie.  He  looks  pale 


88  SEARCHLIGHTS 

and  thin,  but  very  cheery.  The  NURSE  L., 
carrying  rug,  supports  him,  and  MRS. 
ELAINE  R.,  assists.} 

HARRY.     I'm  all  right,  Mother.    Bless  you!     I 

can  walk  alone. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Smiling.}     You'll  have  to  put 

up  with  some  coddling,  for  my  sake. 

(He  laughs  and  kisses  her  cheek.  NURSE 
and  MRS.  ELAINE  instal  him  comfortably 
in  arm-chair  L.C.} 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Is  the  light  too  strong? 
HARRY.     Come  off  it! 

NURSE.     He's  a  bit  above  himself  this  morning. 
HARRY.     I'm  at  home.    (Grins  cheerfully.} 
MRS.  ELAINE.     I'll  call  you,  Nurse,  in  a  few 
minutes. 

(NURSE  arranges  a  light  rug  about  his  knees. 
MRS.  ELAINE  watches  her  with  rather  a 
set  face.  HARRY  winks.  The  Nurse  goes 
back  into  bedroom,  closing  door.} 

HARRY.     You're  jealous  of  my  nurse! 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Smiling.}    Perhaps  I  am. 
HARRY.    What  did  old  Pill-box  say?    I  feel  fit 
enough  to  join  again  in  a  week. 

(MRS.  ELAINE  draws  a  light  chair  from  L. 
of  settee  near  to  him,  and  sits.  She  takes 
his  hand  and  strokes  it.} 


SEARCHLIGHTS  89 

You  dear  thing!  I  know  it's  a  bit  rough  on 
you,  but  I'm  simply  mad  to  be  at  it  again. 

MRS.  ELAINE.    Are  you  ? 

HARRY.  Hang  it  !  We  must  admit  that  I 
haven't  had  my  innings  yet.  I  was  clean 
bowled  in  the  first  over.  Sunstroke!  Rotten 
luck! 

MRS.  ELAINE.     How  did  it  happen? 

HARRY.  (With  a  grimace.')  Running  away  at 
Mons.  We  legged  it,  I  can  tell  you,  under  a 
blazing  sun.  We  had  to.  They  were  five  to 
one.  I  thought  we  were  going  to  be  wiped 
out.  I  lost  my  cap.  We  got  into  a  better 
position,  and  then  I  felt  beastly  sick.  I  don't 
remember  anything  else  till  I  found  myself  in 
a  field  hospital.  Humiliating,  I  call  it!  (He 
frowns.)  And  our  fellows  have  done  wonders 
ever  since. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     You  did  your  duty,  Harry. 

HARRY.     I've  done  nothing — nothing ! 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (With  emphasis.)  Two  splendid 
things. 

HARRY.     What  ?    Are  you  pullin'  my  leg  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  went  to  Netley  Hospital  about 
a  fortnight  ago,  and  saw  a  wounded  Tommy — 
Godwin. 

HARRY.     Godwin  ?    He  was  in  my  platoon. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Godwin  told  me  that  during  the 
retreat  from  Mons,  when  the  men  were  begin- 


90  SEARCHLIGHTS 

ning  to  fall  out,  you  kept  them  going  with  your 

jokes. 

HARRY.     What  rot! 
MRS.  ELAINE.     And  he  said  that  when  a  bridge 

you  had  just  passed  over  was  being  badly 

shelled,  you  ran  back  to  put  a  wounded  horse 

out  of  his  misery. 
HARRY.     I'm  so  sorry  for  the  horses.    Anybody 

would  have  done  it. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     I  am  proud  indeed  that  it  was 

you,  Harry.     (Presses  his  hand.)     You  are 

all  I  have,  dear;  and  you  came  back  to  me 

only  last  night. 

HARRY.     I  know,  Mother.    All  the  same,  I — er — 
MRS.  ELAINE.     Wait.  The  doctor  is  quite  satis- 
fied  

HARRY.     Hooray!     Ask  the  Governor  to  give 

him  double  fees. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Nervously.)    He  says  you  have 

a  fine  constitution. 
HARRY.     I  get  that  from  Father.    He's  as  tough 

as  they  make  'em.    He  was  rather  decent  when 

I  rolled  up  yesterday. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (With  sivi ft  change.)    To  return 

to  your  health,  Harry — 
HARRY.     (Eagerly.)     I  say,  what  topping  news 

for  little  Phoebe !    She  must  have  worried  most 

awfully.     (Eagerly.)     Have  you  told  Father 

about  my  engagement  ? 


SEARCHLIGHTS  91 

MRS.  ELAINE.     I  told  him  just  now. 

HARRY.     What  did  he  say? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Rises.)  Nothing.  His  mind  is 
fixed.  I  can  read  him.  He'll  oppose  this 
marriage  tooth  and  nail. 

HARRY.     Um !  When  is  Phoebe  coming  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  am  expecting  her  mother  and 
her  at  twelve. 

HARRY.  (Glancing  at  a  fine  clock  on  mantel- 
piece.) What!  And  you  let  me  sit  here  in 
this  kit!  (Rises.)  I  must  fix  up  at  once. 

(MRS.  ELAINE  pulls  him  gently  down  into 
chair;  she  stands  at  back  of  him,  hands 
on  shoulders.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  No  hurry.  (Incisively.)  Harry,do 
you  want  to  marry  Phoebe  against  your  father's 
wish? 

HARRY.  Mother!  Do  you  think  I'd  chuck  the 
little  dear  now  ?  You  amaze  me. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  wanted  to  make  sure.  You 
must  face  the  fact  bravely  that  you  are  ab- 
solutely dependent  upon  your — father.  (Her 
voice  is  almost  inaudible.) 

HARRY.  (Cheerily.)  Right  O!  After  all,  he  is 
my  father.  We've  not  hit  it  off  quite  up  to 
date,  but  this  war  has  changed  things  and 
people.  Lawsy!  hasn't  it  just  changed  me! 


92  SEARCHLIGHTS 

I  shall  deal  gently  with  Father.  And  when 
he  sees  how  keen  I  am  to  go  back 

(MRS.  ELAINE  moves  to  R.  of  chair.) 

and  do  something  which  will  make  him  proud 
of  his  son,  why,  then 

(She  sobs.) 
Mother,  what's  the  matter  ? 

(He  sees  that  MRS.  ELAINE  is  profoundly 
moved. ) 

HARRY.     You're  not  crying  ?    Cheer  up !  Things 

will  be  brighter.    I'm  out  for  a  D.S.O. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Choked.)    Stop! 

(She  turns  and  sits  R.  of  him.    He  stares  at 
her  in  astonishment.) 

Harry — (she  speaks  in  a  low,  thrilling  voice) 
— you  can't  go  back. 

HARRY.     Can't  I  just! 

MRS.  ELAINE.     This  sunstroke 

HARRY.  What  of  it?  I'm  ashamed  to  mention 
it. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Controlling  herself,  very  ten- 
derly.) It  was  more  serious  than  you  think. 
(Takes  his  hand.)  For  a  long  time  you  will 
have  to  be  careful.  The  doctor  says  so  posi- 
tively. They  won't  let  you  go  back. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  93 

(She  nods  sorrowfully.} 

HARRY.  (Excitedly.)  You  mean  that?  They 
won't  have  me?  You  are  telling  me — (he 
falters) — that  I'm — scrapped! 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Hastily.)  Harry,  darling,  you 
mustn't  excite  yourself.  I  would  spare  you  if 
I  could,  but  it's  true.  You  must  leave  the 
Army — (rises) 

HARRY.     Oh,  my  God! 

MRS.  BLAINE.    — and  try  something  else. 

( There  is  silence.   MRS.  BLAINE  kisses  him, 
crosses  in  front  to  L.) 

HARRY.  It's  all  right,  Mother.  It  was  a  nasty 
knock.  Give  me  time.  I  won't  grouse  about 
it.  I 

(The  door  opens  and  TREMLETT  appears, 
R.) 

MRS.  BLAINE.    What  is  it,  Tremlett? 
TREMLETT.     Sir  Keith  and  Lady  Howard,  and 

Miss  Howard 

HARRY.     Who  the  devil  is  Sir  Keith  Howard? 
MRS.  BLAINE.     Sir  Adalbert  Schmaltz.    He  has 

changed  his  name.     Ask  them  to  come  up, 

Tremlett. 

(TREMLETT  goes  out.) 


94  SEARCHLIGHTS 

HARRY.     Changed  his  name!    They  mustn't  see 

me  like  this.    Hi !  Nurse !  What  ho ! 
NURSE.     (Off.)    Coming! 

(NURSE  enters  C.,  down  L.  of  Harry.) 

HARRY.     Get  me  out  of  this — quick! 
(Bus.   Exeunt  HARRY  and  NURSE.) 

(TREMLETT  ushers  in  LADY  SCHMALTZ,  fol- 
lowed by  PHCEBE  and  SIR  ADALBERT.) 

(SiR  ADALBERT  looks  comically  smart  in 
London  kit.  LADY  SCHMALTZ  is  quietly 
dressed,  but  wears  handsome  furs.  PHCEBE 
is  looking  her  prettiest.) 

(LADY  SCHMALTZ  to  couch,  PHCEBE  L.C., 
SIR  ADALBERT  to  L.) 

TREMLETT.     (Announcing     sonorously.)        Sir 

Keith  and  Lady  Howard.    Miss  Howard. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     You  dear  things ! 
SIR  ADALBERT.    Und  here  we  are  again! 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (To  TREMLETT.)  Tell  Mr.  Elaine 

that  Sir  Keith  is  here. 
TREMLETT.     Very   good,    madam.      (Goes   out, 

slightly  smiling.)      (General  greetings.) 
SIR  ADALBERT.     So !   Harry  is  home  again  ? 
LADY  SCHMALTZ.    We  were  so  glad  to  get  your 

wire. 
PHCEBE.     Mrs.  Elaine,  how  is  he?     (Sits  L.C.) 


SEARCHLIGHTS  95 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Gravely,  sits  on  couch.)  You 
must  be  prepared  for  a  change.  He  is  white 
and  thin,  but  his  spirits  are  wonderful. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Ach!  those  Shermans!  I  haf 
relations,  yes.  I  should  like  to  stick  my  um- 
brella into  der  stomach  of  my  fat  cousin,  Fritz. 
(Makes  a  lunge  and  crosses  round  C.  to  piano, 
puts  down  hat  and  umbrella.)  So! 

PHCEBE.  (Laughing.)  Poor  Father  is  furious 
with  the  Germans.  He  drinks  English  lager, 
and  has  bought  a  Gillette  safety  razor,  because 
his  razors  were  made  in  Germany. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  Und  I  change  my  name.  I  take 
der  best.  (Comes  C.) 

(Enter  ELAINE;  comes  C.,  shakes  hands 
•with  SIR  ADALBERT,  then  with  LADY 
SCHMALTZ  over  couch.) 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Plaintively.)  I  can't  get  ac- 
customed to  it. 

ELAINE.     How  are  you,  Schmaltz  ? 

SIR  ADALBERT.  (Shaking  hands  with  ELAINE.) 
Howar-r-rd,  my  friend,  Howar-r-rd.  Do  you 
know  what  der  English  for  Schmaltz  is? 

(ELAINE  shakes  his  head.) 

It  means  suet.  My  poor  friend  Koenig,  he 
call  himself  King;  my  poor  friend  Golden- 
baum,  he  call  himself  Goldtree.  But  I — I — 


96  SEARCHLIGHTS 

could  I  call  myself  Sir  Adalbert  Suet?   No! 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  Certainly  not.  Don't  be  fool- 
ish, Bertie. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  I  haf  lost  my  money,  I  haf  lost 
my  business,  but  I  keep  der  family.  Milly  haf 
her  diamonts  (going  L.) — und  some  monies 
I  gif  her.  We  shall  lif  in  a  cottage.  I  like 
cottages.  I  shall  schmoke  der  pipe.  I  shall 
plant  my  own  cabbages.  So ! 

ELAINE.  Schmaltz!  (Crosses  to  SIR  ADALBERT, 
who  is  L.) 

SIR  ADALBERT.     Howard ! 

ELAINE.  I  beg  your  pardon.  My  dear  Howard, 
you  have  taken  this  change  in  your  fortunes 
like  a  Briton. 

SIR  ADALBERT.  I  haf  lost  my  money,  but  you, 
Elaine,  haf  made  more  money?  (Rubbing 
his  hands.)  Good!  Den  it  will  be  all  right 
for  der  young  beoples. 

(ELAINE  goes  to  door  R.  MRS.  ELAINE  and 
LADY  SCHMALTZ  talking  in  a  low  -voice.) 

PHCEBE.     (Rises,  and  down  to  SIR  ADALBERT.) 

Father,  dear,  please  don't  mix  up  business  with 

this  visit. 
SIR  ADALBERT.    Business,  my  Phoebykins!    The 

wedding  bells  was  ringing  in  my  ears.     (Bits. 

of  bell  sounds.)    Und  Harry?     His  vounds 

are  healing  nice? 


SEARCHLIGHTS  97 

ELAINE.    Harry  was  not  wounded. 

PHCEBE.     (Reproachfully.)    Father,  I  told  you 

it  was  sunstroke  and  fever. 
SIR  ADALBERT.     Sunstroke  und  fever,  yes.    My 

good  friend,  I  wish  I  had  a  brave  son  like 

yours.    (Crosses  to  ELAINE,  who  is  R.C.  above 

settee.) 
ELAINE.     Come   and   smoke   a   cigar   with   me 

downstairs. 
SIR  ADALBERT.     ( Taking  hat  and  umbrella  from 

piano.)     I  haf  given  up  cigars.    I  smoke  der 

pipe.    It  is  good,  der  pipe.  Yes — we  economize. 

I  drink  English  lager  (makes  a  grimace).    It 

is  my  ponishment  for  having  been  born  in 

Bavaria. 

ELAINE.     One  cigar? 
SIR  ADALBERT.     It  would  be  Sherman  manners 

to  refuse. 

(ELAINE  leads  him  off  R.) 

PHCEBE.  (To  C.)  Mrs.  Elaine,  I  know — I 

mean,  I •  (Gasping.)  Of  course  Father 

losing  his  money  will  make  a  difference. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  Yes;  Phoebe  is  ready  to  re- 
lease Harry.  (To  MRS.  ELAINE.) 

PHCEBE.  Father  doesn't  know  that  Mr.  Elaine 
objects.  Mother  thought  it  better  not  to  tell 
him. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     You  haven't  told  him? 


98  SEARCHLIGHTS 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Upset.)  Not  yet.  I  so  hate 
being  bustled  and  hustled. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     But  you  must  tell  him ! 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  My  dear,  he's  had  so  much  to 
worry  him  lately. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Robert  may  be  telling  him  now. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  Oh!  (Rises.)  How  I  wish 
I  could  go  home  and  lie  down  for  half  an 
hour! 

PHOZBE.     We  hoped  that  Mr.  Elaine  would  melt. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  In  November !  He  is  as  cold  as 
ice  even  in  the  dog-days. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!  Alice — 
won't  you  tell  Bertie  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  have  said  too  many  disagree- 
able things  to  my  own  husband. 

LADY  SCHMALTZ.  (Rising  desperately.)  Then, 
I'll  do  it  now.  Mr.  Blame's  cigars  always  put 
Bertie  into  a  good  temper.  (Walks  round  C. 
to  door.  At  door.}  Dear  man!  How  lucky 
that  I  ordered  a  dressed  crab  for  his  lunch ! 

(Exit  LADY  SCHMALTZ,  R.  MRS.   ELAINE 
rises.) 

PHCEBE.     Poor  Mother! 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Do  you  think  Harry  wishes  to 
be  released  ? 

PHOSBE.     I  don't  know.    I 

MRS.  ELAINE.    You  shall  settle  it  with  him. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  99 

PHCEBE.     Can  I  see  him  alone  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.     He  is  looking  forward  to  that. 

PHCEBE.     May  I  go  to  him  now  ? 

MRS.   ELAINE.     He  will  come  here.     Nurse  is 

dressing  him.    He  came  back  with  a  beard. 
PHCEBE.     A  beard ! 
MRS.  ELAINE.     In  patches.    He  was  shaved  this 

morning;  he's  quite  presentable  now.    But  he 

mustn't  be  excited. 
PHCEBE.     I  promise  you  that. 
MRS.  ELAINE.     I  hope  things  will  come  right,  but 

they're  in  a  sad  muddle.    I  wish 

PHCEBE.     Yes  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.     That  we  were  all  more  like  you. 

(Kiss.)    The  loss  of  this  money  hasn't  affected 

Sir  Adalbert.    I'll  fetch  Harry. 

(She  goes  out  C.) 

(PHCEBE  assumes  an  expectant  smile.) 

(HARRY  comes  in  to  C.,  with  MRS.  ELAINE 
at  back.  He  has  smartened  himself  up. 
He  wears  a  light  grey  suit  and  a  becom- 
ing tie.  PHCEBE  L.C.) 

HARRY.     You  look  rippin',  Phoebe.    (Takes  both 

her  hands.} 
PHCEBE.     Oh,  Harry,  how  thankful  I  am  to  see 

you  again !  You  are  thin ! 
HARRY.     Nice  riding  weight. 


100  SEARCHLIGHTS 

(They  install  him  as  before,  but  he  shoves 
the  light  rug  aside.  MRS.  ELAINE  offers 
rug.} 

I'm  warm  enough.    The  sight  of  Phoebe  would 

warm  a  skeleton. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     I  shall  be  downstairs. 
HARRY.     With  Father  ? 
MRS.  ELAINE.      (Going.)     Downstairs.      (Puts 

rug  on  settee.) 

(She  goes  out.    PHCEBE  is  following  her.) 
HARRY.     Give  me  a  kiss,  Phoebe. 

(She  kisses  him  lightly  on  brow,  from  R. 
back  of  chair.) 

Can't  you  put  more  ginger  into  it  ? 
PHCEBE.     (Sits  R.  of  him.     Demurely.)    You 

mustn't  be  excited.    Doctor's  orders! 
HARRY.     I  got  your  letters. 
PHCEBE.     I  didn't  get  many  of  yours.     Before 

you  went  into  hospital,  I  mean. 
HARRY.     Hadn't  a  minute!    Never  changed  my 

clothes  for  ten  days.     Never  thought  I'd  see 

you  again. 
PHCEBE.     What  did  you  think  about  during  those 

awful  days  ? 

HARRY.     Mostly  food.     All  the  jolly  good  din- 
ners I'd  eaten  at  the  Ritz  and  Savoy.    We  had 


SEARCHLIGHTS  101 

bully  beef  and  mangoldwurzels  for  three  days. 
Lord !  what  indigestion  I  did  have !  (Groans.) 

PHOEBE.     What  else  did  you  think  about? 

HARRY.  Peace — quiet.  The  gunning  got  on  one's 
nerves.  I  used  to  imagine  myself  in  a  punt 
in  some  quiet  backwater  of  the  Thames,  with 
the  bees  buzzing  in  the  willows.  (Sighs,) 

PHCEBE.    Alone  in  a  punt! 

HARRY.  Not  alone,  Phcebe.  (Smiles.)  There 
was  a  jolly  girl  with  me. 

PHCEBE.  I  expect  you  have  taken  lots  of  girls 
out  in  punts. 

HARRY.     I  have.    Did  I  ever  take  you,  dear  ? 

PHCEBE.     Never. 

HARRY.  (Smiles  again.)  We  must  put  that 
right  next  summer. 

PHCEBE.  (Rises,  to  C.  Nervously.)  I'm  not  a 
very  jolly  girl  now,  Harry. 

HARRY.     Why  not? 

PHCEBE.  (Turns  to  him.)  Haven't  they  told 
you? 

HARRY.     Told  me — what? 

PHCEBE.  Poor  Father  is  ruined.  He  never  be- 
lieved in  war — don't  you  remember?  His 
money  was  in  Germany.  And  now 

HARRY.     (In  a  low  voice.)    Good  lord! 

PHCEBE.  Your  father,  Harry,  has  made  more 
money. 

HARRY.     Your  father  will  make  more,  too. 


102  SEARCHLIGHTS 

PHCEBE.  He  is  rather  old.  Mother  has  a  small 
income.  (Crosses  L.) 

(A  pause.) 

HARRY.  I  say,  Phoebe,  this  war  has  been  an  eye- 
opener  for  some  of  us. 

(PHCEBE  sits  on  small  table  L.  of  him.) 

HARRY.  I'll  tell  you,  just  between  our  two 
selves,  that  I  was  out  for  Death  or  Glory.  I 
wanted  to — to  "make  good."  I  wanted  to  see 
something  in  the  Governor's  eyes  which  I'd 
never  seen. 

PHCEBE.  (Incredulously.)  And  you  haven't 
seen  it? 

HARRY.  Not  yet.  He  thinks  a  lot  of  success.  I 
have  not  been  a  shining  success  yet,  have  I  ? 

PHCEBE.     (Softly.)     You  want  to  go  back? 

HARRY.  Not  quite  so  much  as  I  did.  Phoebe, 
dear — I  can't  go  back. 

PHCEBE.     Oh,  Harry! 

HARRY.  (Takes  her  right  hand.)  I  want  to 
ask  you  to  forgive  me. 

PHCEBE.  (Sadly.)  I  understand.  (Kneels  L. 
of  HARRY.) 

HARRY.  (Decisively.)  I  must  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it.  It's  a  dirty  job,  but  I  shan't  rest 
easy  till  I've  done  it.  I  made  up  to  you,  you 


SEARCHLIGHTS  103 

jolly  little  thing.  I (Hesitates.)  Oh,  hang 

it! 

PHCEBE.  (Softly.)  I'll  say  what  you  can't, 
Harry. 

HARRY.     Eh  ? 

PHCEBE.  (Simply,  but  with  dignity.)  It  will 
be  easier  for  you.  You  were  nice  to  me — such 
a  dear,  that  I  thought  you  cared  as — as  much 
as  I  cared.  But — after  you'd  gone,  when  I 
used  to  lie  awake  at  night  and  think  over  every 
word  you'd  ever  said  to  me,  I — I — well,  some- 
how, I  began  to  get  frightened. 

HARRY.     (Eagerly.)    Phoebe! 

PHCEBE.  (Laying  her  finger  upon  his  lips.)  Let 
me  finish.  I  used  to  walk  in  the  Park.  I  saw 
some  of  our  Tommies  saying  good-bye  to  their 
best  girls,  and  then  I  knew  .  .  . 

(Her  voice  dies  away.  There  is  a  significant 
pause.) 

HARRY.     Tell  me  what  you  knew. 

PHCEBE.  That  you  liked  me,  that  you  thought 
I  might  make  you  a  good  wife,  but  that  you 
didn't  love  me  as  I  wanted  to  be  loved.  (Sit- 
ting back  on  her  heels.) 

(Another  pause.) 

HARRY.  (Awkwardly.}  I  was  badly  in  debt, 
Phoebe.  I  was  rather  desperate.  And — and 


104  SEARCHLIGHTS 

your  people  liked  me.  Now  I  come  to  the 
jumping-off  place.  Sit  tight!  The  fact  that 
you  were  a  big  heiress  did  count.  When 
Father  refused  point-blank  to  pay  my  debts, 
I — I  opened  fire  on  you  against  his  wishes. 

PHCEBE.     I  know. 

HARRY.  (Positively.}  He  objected — confound 
him!  He  still  objects.  But  I  went  ahead,  be- 
cause I  counted  on  your  father  to  pull  me  out 
of  my  hole.  (With  a  groan  of  despair.)  My 
God !  what  a  cad  I  feel ! 

PHCEBE.  I  understand  everything.  {Kneels  up 
again.) 

HARRY.  You're  a  wonder.  (Takes  her  hands.) 
Well,  dear,  over  there,  when  I  made  certain 
that  I  should  never  see  you  again,  I  went  over, 
as  you  did,  all  that  had  passed  between  us, 
and  I  began  to  loathe  myself.  I  began  to  think 
it  would  be  a  jolly  good  thing  for  you  if  I  was 
potted. 

PHCEBE.     Oh-h-h ! 

HARRY.  (In  a  low  voice.)  I  used  to  think  of 
your  kisses  the  day  before  I  went.  How  sweet 
you  were ! 

PHCEBE.     Isn't  this  too  much  for  you,  Harry? 

(He  takes  her  hand  and  grips  it.) 

HARRY.  (Hoarsely.)  I  must  get  it  off  my  chest. 
Over  there,  in  the  dark,  a  sort  of  mental  light 


SEARCHLIGHTS  105 

came  to  me.    I  saw  myself  clearly,  and  I  saw 
you,  you  dear,  dear  thing. 

PHCEBE.  (Almost  breaking  down.}  Harry,  you 
may  be  able  to  stand  this.  I  can't!  (Sinks 
back  on  heels.) 

(Slight  pause.) 

HARRY.    You  must.      (Firmly.)     Two  women 

shone  out  of  the  darkness. 
PHCEBE.     Two  women? 
HARRY.     You  and — (pause) — mother.     Aha!    I 

spoofed  you  there,  Miss  Schmaltz!   (Laughs 

lightly;  then  his  voice  changes  and  deepens.) 

Can  you  ever  forgive  me  ? 
PHCEBE.     You  know  I  can,  and  do. 
HARRY.     I  have  given  you  the  powder  first.  Now 

for  the  jam — such  as  it  is !  (Takes  her  hands.) 

To-day,  I  want  you  as  you  wanted  me.     7 

love  you. 

(She  gives  a  little  quiver.) 

Whatever  the  future  holds  for  me,  Phoebe,  it 
must  hold  you,  or  it  will  be  no  future  at  all. 

(She  stares  at  him.  He  smiles  reassuringly 
and  nods  his  head.  Her  face  gradually 
lights  up.) 

PHCEBE.     (Ecstatically.)    Say  it  again! 
HARRY.     I  love  you! 


106  SEARCHLIGHTS 

(She  gives  a  little  gasp  of  satisfaction.) 

You  don't  believe?  If  you  will  do  exactly  what 
I  tell  you,  I'll  make  you  believe.  Will  you  ? 

(She  nods  shyly.) 
Put  both  your  little  arms  around  me. 

(She  does  so  with  an  adorable  modesty.) 
Put  your  lips  on  mine.     (Kiss.)    No  shirking! 

(Bus— ad  lib.) 

(Triumphantly.)    There!   Do  you  believe  me 

now? 
PHOZBE.     (Releasing  herself.)  Yes,  I  do,  Harry. 

You  are  strong !     (He  lies  back  in  his  chair.) 
HARRY.     (With  a  weak  laugh.)     I  kept  every 

ounce  of  strength  I  had  for  that  hug.     Now, 

let  me  look  at  you,  and — gloat ! 

(He  stares  at  her.  She  -wriggles  a  little  as 
she  sees  how  his  handsome  eyes  are  de- 
vouring her.) 

I'm  recovering  quickly.  The  doctor  spoke  of 
my  recuperative  powers.  This  is  the  medicine 
my  system  needs.  Repeat  the  dose!  (Pulls 
her  to  him.) 

PHOEBE.     Be  sensible! 

HARRY.  (Decisively.)  Love  is  the  only  sensible 
thing  in  life.  Come  on ! 


SEARCHLIGHTS  107 

(Another  lingering  embrace.) 

Now  I'll  be  sensible.  (In  a  business-like  tone.) 

I've  got  to  tackle  Father. 
PHCEBE.     (Rises.)      You  aren't  strong  enough 

for  that. 

HARRY.     Yes,  I  am. 
PHCEBE.     (Anxiously.)     What  will  you  say  to 

him? 
HARRY.     You  wait  and  see.     Fetch  him.     He's 

downstairs  in  his  den.     If  I'm  to  get  well  I 

must  know  exactly  how  I  stand  with  him.  You 

nip  off  now. 

(PHCEBE  rises  slowly,  to  C.,  not  liking  her 
errand.) 

PHCEBE.     Let  your  mother  break  the  ice. 

HARRY.  Never  again.  We  tried  that  before, 
with  disastrous  results. 

PHCEBE.     Then  you  want  to  see  him  alone  ? 

HARRY.  Alone!  I  don't  think!  I  must  have 
numerical  strength  to  outflank  him.  I  want 
you  to  stand  by — and  Mother.  Tell  her. 

PHCEBE,     If  you  insist 

HARRY.     (Masterfully.)    I  do.    Cut  along! 

(She  goes  to  door  R.,  hesitates,  smiles,  runs 
back  and  gives  him  another  kiss,  and  then 
vanishes  with  a  laugh.) 


108  SEARCHLIGHTS 

(  The  NURSE  comes  in  silently,  puts  medicine 
and  chart  on  table  L.C.,  and  gets  rug  from 
settee.) 

(HARRY,  with  a  wink  visible  to  the  audience, 
closes  his  eyes  and  feigns  sleep.  The 
NURSE  bends  down.  HARRY  opens  his 
eyes  cautiously.  The  NURSE  comes  back. 
Medicine  on  table.  HARRY  hears  her  and 
closes  eyes  again.  The  NURSE  listens,  hear- 
ing some  slight  noise  outside.  She  puts 
rug  around  HARRY'S  knees. 

(MRS.  ELAINE  appears  first.  NURSE,  with 
finger  upon  lip,  imposes  silence.  MRS. 
ELAINE  approaches  HARRY.) 

(ELAINE  appears  R.,  down  to  C.  Then 
PHCEBE.) 

NURSE.     Shush-h-h!     (L.  of  HARRY.) 

(ELAINE'S  face  is  quite  impassive.) 
MRS.  ELAINE.     (Approaching ontiptoe.)  Asleep! 

(In  a  whisper.)    Dear  fellow ! 
HARRY.     (Opening  his  eyes.)     Spoofed  the  lot 

of  you !    Never  was  more  wide-awake. 
NURSE.     Time  for  your  medicine. 

HARRY.    Ugh!  Father 

ELAINE.    Yes  ? 

HARRY.     Father,   keep  puffing  away.     I   want 


SEARCHLIGHTS  109 

something  to  take  the  everlasting  taste  of  qui- 
nine out  of  my  mouth.    Cheer  ho ! 

(NURSE  presents  glass,  which  HARRY  takes 
with  a  grimace,  and  drinks.  NURSE  takes 
empty  glass,  marks  a  chart  which  she 
carries,  and  goes  to  door.  PHOZBE  re- 
mains up.) 

NURSE.     (At  door.)     No  excitements,  please ! 
HARRY.     Right  ho!   You  come  and  fetch  me  in 
five  minutes. 

(NURSE  goes  out.) 

MRS.    ELAINE.     (Bending    over    him.)      Quite 

comfy?     (Back  of  HARRY'S  chair.) 
HARRY.     Ask  Father  to  sit  in  that  chair. 

(He  indicates  the  arm-chair  down  L.  BLAINE 
crosses  and  sits.) 

HARRY.    Where's  Phoebe? 

PHOZBE.     (Coming  down.)   Here.    (Sits  in  chair 

L.C.) 
HARRY.     (Draws  her  to  him.)     You  can  hold 

my  hand,  if  you  like.    (PHOEBE  hesitates.) 
MRS.    BLAINE.     (Anxiously.)      Please   humour 

him,  my  dear. 

(PHCEBE  sits  in  the  upright  chair.  BLAINE 
has  sat  doivn  in  the  arm-chair.  MRS. 


110  SEARCHLIGHTS 

BLAINE  remains  standing.     HARRY  holds 
PHCEBE'S  hand.) 

HARRY.     I  suppose  you  saw  Firmin,  Father  ? 

BLAINE.     I  did. 

HARRY.     And  he  told  you  that  I  should  have  to 

chuck  soldiering? 

BLAINE.     He  made  that  quite  plain  to  me. 
HARRY.     I  shall  have  to  ask  for  a  stool  in  your 

bank,  after  all. 
BLAINE.     (Quietly.)    We  will  talk  about  your 

future  some  other  time. 
HARRY.     Now,  please. 

(BLAINE  makes  a  gesture  indicating  protest 
but  acquiescence.) 

HARRY.     I've  caused  you  a  lot  of  worry,  Father. 

BLAINE.     (Drily.)     You  have. 

HARRY.  I'm  sorry.  Will  you  give  me  a  billet, 
when  I'm  ready  for  it  ? 

BLAINE.  (Evasively.)  I  have  told  you  what  I 
think  of  your  business  capacity. 

HARRY.  I  suppose  you  know  that  I  engaged  my- 
self to  Phcebe  just  before  I  went  out? 

BLAINE.  (Stiffly.)  Your  mother  informed  me 
of  that. 

HARRY.  At  that  time  Sir  Adalbert  was  a  very 
rich  man.  Phoebe  tells  me  that  this  war  has 
practically  ruined  him. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  111 

ELAINE.  (Glances  at  PHCEBE.)  Your  father 
will  weather  this  storm.  He  is  a  born  money- 
maker. 

HARRY.     Quite  so.    But  I  am  not. 

ELAINE.    No  ? 

HARRY.  As  a  soldier  I'm  down  and  out.  I  want 
to  marry  Phoebe,  and  she  wants  to  marry  me ; 
but  what  have  you  got  to  say  about  it  ? 

ELAINE.     You  want  to  marry  Phoebe  ? 

HARRY.  (Intensely.)  More  than  anything  else 
in  the  world. 

ELAINE.     ( Gravely. )  Sure  of  that  ? 

HARRY.     Quite. 

ELAINE.     Irrespective  of  my  wishes? 

HARRY.  (Humbly.)  Of  course  we  are  dependent 
upon  you. 

ELAINE.  (Incisively.)  You  are.  Would  you 
face  poverty  with  Phoebe? 

HARRY.  (Speaking  almost  rudely,  with  great 
vehemence.)  Yes,  I  would! 

ELAINE.     I  must  talk  this  over  with  your  mother. 

HARRY.     Now  ? 

ELAINE.     Now. 

HARRY.     (To  PHCEBE.)     Take  me  out,  dear. 

(HARRY  rises.  PHCEBE  glances  at  ELAINE, 
who  nods  impassively.  PHCEBE  takes  rug 
and  hold  of  HARRY'S  arm;  assists  him  to 
rise,  then  goes  to  door  C.) 


112  SEARCHLIGHTS 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (C.L.  of  HARRY.  Impulsively.} 
Before  you  go,  let  me  say  this.  Harry,  your 
happiness  is  dearer  to  me  than  my  own. 

HARRY.     I  know  that,  Mother. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  would  do  anything  to  help  you 
— anything  but 

ELAINE.  (Interrupting.}  The  Nurse  forbade 
excitements.  ( Makes  a  gesture. } 

(HARRY  goes  out  with  PHCEBE.  He  turns 
at  the  door  to  wave  an  encouraging  hand 
at  his  mother.  MRS.  ELAINE  closes  C. 
doors.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Standing  near  door.}  Robert. 
You  hold  in  your  strong  hand  my  future  and 
Harry's. 

ELAINE.  Some  months  ago  I  asked  you  to  sign 
this  paper.  If  I  provide  for  Harry  and  Phoebe, 
will  you  sign  it  now?  (Takes  paper  from 
pocket.} 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Coming  closer  to  him.}  I  un- 
derstand what  you  want.  Such  a  paper  would 
free  you  from  me  and  Harry. 

ELAINE.    Yes. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  won't  sign  it.  I  won't  give 
you  the  chance  of  making  my  son  nameless. 

ELAINE.    You  are  thinking  only  of  him? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (At  head  of  couch.  Passion- 
ately.} You  know  that  I  am  not  thinking  of 


SEARCHLIGHTS  113 

myself.  I  am  beyond  caring  what  you  do  or 
say  to  me,  far  beyond  any  thought  of  self. 
(Sits  L.C.)  All  that  passed  from  me  during 
those  agonizing  weeks  in  September.  (Scorn- 
fully,) We  were  told  to  carry  on  as  usual! 
Has  any  man  or  woman  in  the  kingdom  car- 
ried on  as  usual,  except  you? 

(A  pause.) 

What  have  been  your  thoughts  ?  Ah !  (Laughs 
derisively.)  I  had  forgotten.  You  have  made 
money  out  of  this  war,  which  you  had  pre- 
pared for. 

ELAINE.  As  you  say,  I  had  prepared  for  it. 
That's  all.  (Rises.)  I  will  admit  to  you  that 
I  should  have  liked  a  child  of  my  own,  a 
daughter — like  Phoebe — who  might  be  as 
tender  an  object  of  solicitude  to  me  as  Harry 
is  to  you.  I  am  not  too  old  to  marry  again, 
if — if  I  were  free.  (He  gently  knocks  the 
ash  from  his  cigar.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Abruptly.)  Why  did  you  object 
to  Phcebe  as  a  wife  for  Harry? 

ELAINE.  I  considered  that  Phoebe  Schmaltz  was 
too  good  a  girl  to  marry  your  son. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     How  you  hate  Harry  1 

ELAINE.  That  surprises  you?  He  isn't  my  son. 
(Crosses  behind  her  to  R.C.) 


114  SEARCHLIGHTS 

(Her  face  is  hidden  from  him,  but  not  from 
the  audience.  It  must  be  evident  that  some 
new  thought  has  come  to  her,  that  she  is 
nerving  herself  for  a  fresh  attack  upon 
the  man  who  is  quietly  smoking,  master 
of  the  situation.  Her  interlaced  fingers, 
her  twisted  face  and  a  furtive  glance  serve 
to  indicate  her  emotion.') 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Rises.  Down  a  little  to  L.)  Do 
you  hate  Harry  for  himself,  because  he's  so 
different  from  you?  Or  do  you  hate  him  be- 
cause he  is  not  your  son? 

ELAINE.  (Turning  quietly.)  I  have  never  liked 
him — much. 

(She  seizes  his  arm.  He  brushes  her  aside. 
She  glances  hastily  from  right  to  left, 
turns  swiftly.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (In  a  choked  voice.)  Don't  re- 
pulse me !  I  will  try  to  see  things  from  your 
point  of  view. 

ELAINE.  I  shall  listen  with  interest.  (Sits  at 
desk  R.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (L.  of  couch.)  I  couldn't  marry 
the  man  I  loved. 

ELAINE.     Why? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Arthur  Trevor  wouldn't  ask  me 
to  face  life  in  a  marching  regiment  on  tuppence 
ha'penny  a  year. 


SEARCHLIGHTS  115 

ELAINE.  Had  he  asked  you,  would  you  have 
done  it? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Yes.  Well — we  parted.  And  then 
you  wanted  me.  You  were  stronger  than  me. 
Robert,  I  thought  I  was  to  count  for  something 
in  your  life.  You  were  as  cold  as  ice  to  me 
within  a  month  of  our  marriage. 

ELAINE.  I  will  tell  you  why.  (Pause.)  I  heard 
you  murmuring  Trevor's  name  in  your  sleep. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Wincing.)     Oh-h-h! 

ELAINE.  (Grimly.)  You  went  to  your  lover  in 
your  dreams. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Ah!  You  might  have  made  me 
forget  him.  Day  after  day  I  scarcely  saw  you. 
I  was  alone. 

ELAINE.  Those  were  critical  days.  I  stood  to 
lose  everything — to  win  everything. 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Except  my  love. 

ELAINE.     (Grimly.)   I  won. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Arthur  Trevor  came  back.  I  im- 
plored you  to  take  me  away.  (Sits  on  settee.) 

ELAINE.     The  Goring  Bank  crisis  was  on. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  And  then  Harry  was  born. 
Arthur  Trevor  went  back  to  India.  I  never 
saw  him  again,  but  your  suspicions  were 
aroused.  But  you  said  nothing.  Every  time 
you  looked  at  the  child  I  could  read  what  was 
in  your  thoughts. 

ELAINE.    Yes. 


116  SEARCHLIGHTS 

MRS.  ELAINE.  And  yet  I  had  sent  Arthur  Tre- 
vor away. 

ELAINE.     (Grimly.")    Rather  late. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Without  any  evidence — (rises) 
— except  the  ill-natured  gossip  of  so-called 
friends,  you  judged  me  guilty.  In  your  mind 
I  had  the  name  without  the  game. 

ELAINE.     You  were  spending  my  money. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Rises.)  I  admit  that.  I  became 
extravagant — (crosses  C.) — reckless,  but  I  did 
my  part,  too.  I  entertained  your  friends, 
worked  for  you.  I  thought  you  wanted  that 
peerage.  When  your  refused  it,  I  saw  to  the 
very  depths  of  your  soul.  You  gave  yourself 
away  then — absolutely.  Till  that  moment  I  had 
never  been  quite  sure  what  you  really  thought 
about  Harry. 

ELAINE.     Well  ? 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Well — I  revenged  myself. 

ELAINE.  (Betraying  a  little  emotion.)  What  do 
you  mean?  (Crosses  to  her,  stands.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Looking  up.)  I  don't  think  I 
had  ever  hated  you  till  then.  The  idea  of 
hurting  and  humiliating  you  grew  and  grew. 
Then  my  chance  came,  and  I — I  took  it.  I 
wanted  to  grind  your  very  soul  to  powder.  I 
told  you  that  Harry  was  not  your  son.  Well — 
he  is! 

ELAINE.     Look  me   straight  in   the  eyes   and 


SEARCHLIGHTS  117 

tell  me  that  Harry  is  my  son.     (Pulls  her  to 
him.} 
MRS.  ELAINE.    Yes! 

(For  an  instant  the  wife  meets  the  keen, 
piercing  glance  of  her  husband;  she  goes 
up  to  couch  and  sits.  ELAINE  crosses 
slowly  to  L.C.,  takes  photo  from  pocket 
and  walks  to  C.  MRS.  ELAINE  sinks  into 
the  sofa.  She  sits  there  limp  and  listless, 
evidently  unnerved  by  the  strain  and 
suspense.  After  a  pause,  ELAINE  turns. 
His  face  has  softened.  When  he  speaks 
the  hardness  and  coldness  have  gone  out 
of  his  voice.  He  comes  slowly  down,  and 
in  his  hand  he  holds  the  picture  of  Arthur 
Trevor,  taken  by  him  from  PHCEBE.) 

ELAINE.  I  have  been  looking  at  this.  (He  holds 
it  in  front  of  her  eyes. } 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Harry  ?  You  have  carried  about 
with  you  a  picture  of  Harry? 

ELAINE.     It's  a  good  likeness? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  Excellent.  I  don't  remember  see- 
ing it  before.  Where  did  you  get  it  ? 

ELAINE.  From  Phoebe  Schmaltz.  (Looks  down 
on  her.}  Look  at  the  back.  (Turns  photo.} 

(She  does  not  take  it.  She  reads  what  is 
written  and  gives  a  half-suppressed  gasp 


118  SEARCHLIGHTS 

of  dismay.    Her  attitude  is  pathetically 
helpless  and  hopeless.) 

ELAINE.  (In  a  whisper.)  Is  Harry  my  son? 
Is  he?  (Puts  photo  back  in  pocket,  after  a 
pause.) 

(She  opens  her  mouth,  but  no  sound  escapes 
from  her  lips.  She  goes  to  the  desk  and 
signs  the  paper,  giving  it  to  ELAINE,  who 
takes  it  from  her  trembling  fingers. ) 

ELAINE.     (C.)    Thank  you.  Please  fetch  Harry. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Rises.  R.C.)  You  don't — you 
can't  mean  to  tell  him  ?  And — and  you  ask  me 
!  (Sinks,  collapsed,  into  sofa.) 

(ELAINE  walks  to  door  C.) 

ELAINE.     (Opening  door.)    Harry! 
HARRY.     (Off.)    Yes,  sir! 

(PHCEBE  helps  HARRY  in.) 

(ELAINE  C.,  HARRY  to  chair,  PHOEBE  to 
head  of  settee.) 

PHCEBE.  (Nervously.)  Shall  I  stay,  Mrs. 
Elaine? 

ELAINE.  (C.)  Please.  (Takes  her  hand.)  It's 
you  whom  I  wish  to  speak  to  more  particu- 
larly. Do  you  love  Harry  for  himself  regard- 
less, let  us  say,  of  his  position  as  my  son?  An- 


SEARCHLIGHTS  119 

swer  me,  my  dear,  with  entire  frankness.  Look 

into  your  heart.     If  Harry  were  not  Harry 

Elaine 

PHCEBE.     If  he  were  the  son  of  a  poor  man — if 

he  had  nothing,  I  should  love  him,  and  want 

to  marry  him. 
HARRY.     I  have  less  than  nothing.     I'm  in  debt, 

Phoebe. 

PHOZBE.     He's  in  debt. 
ELAINE.     I  have  here  a  paper  which  concerns 

you. 

(ELAINE  takes  blue  paper  from  his  breast- 
pocket. MRS.  ELAINE  gasps  and  rises; 
does  not  look  round.  ELAINE  hands 
HARRY  the  blue  receipted  bill.) 

HARRY.     Father!     How  perfectly   splendid  of 

you !    Mother !    Paid ! 
ELAINE.    If  you  want  Harry,  you  can  have  him. 

(ELAINE,  with  a  gesture  checking  HARRY'S 
gratitude,  goes  down  to  fire.) 

HARRY.  (Rises.)  Father,  I  promise  you  that  I 
will  try  to  be  a  better  son. 

ELAINE.  I  have  kept  my  word.  I  told  your 
mother  that  I  would  pay  your  debts,  if  you 
fell  on  the  field  of  honour.  Because  you  have 
borne  arms  for  England  I  will  make  suitable 


120  SEARCHLIGHTS 

provision    for    you,    if    you    marry    Phoebe. 

(Leans  on  fireplace.) 
PHCEBE.    May  I  go  and  tell  Dad? 
BLAINE.    Run  along. 

(Exit  PHCEBE  R.) 

HARRY.     (Going  to  C.  door,  turns.)     Mother, 

aren't  you  pleased? 
MRS.  ELAINE.    For  you,  Harry,  yes.    (Clutching 

him.)     I'm  not  going  to  lose  you. 

HARRY.    Why,  Mother ! 

MRS.  BLAINE.     (Intensely.)     This  will  not  take 

you  from  me? 
HARRY.     Nothing  I  could  do  would  take  you 

from  me. 
MRS.  BLAINE.     Nothing  I  could  do  would  come 

between  us? 
HARRY.     Rather  not!     (Kisses  her,  and  exit.) 

(BLAINE  is  at  fireplace.) 

(As  soon  as  HARRY  has  left  the  room,  it 
must  be  evident  that  MRS.  BLAINE  is 
nerving  herself  for  a  supreme  effort. 
Passion  in  the  woman,  long  suppressed,  is 
about  to  break  bonds.  Her  biasing  eyes, 
her  clenched  hands,  her  quivering  lips  and 
heaving  bosom  must  excite  the  anticipa- 
tions of  the  audience.  She  takes  a  step 
nearer  BLAINE,  and  pauses,  drawing  her- 


SEARCHLIGHTS  121 

self  up  to  her  full  height.  During  the 
scene  that  follows,  her  emotion  must  be 
dramatically  contrasted  with  his  frigid 
impassivity. ) 

MRS.  ELAINE.     Thank  you,  Robert. 

ELAINE.    For  what? 

MRS.  ELAINE.  I  thought  you  were  going  to  show 
that  paper  to  Harry. 

ELAINE.    Not  yet. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  He  must  never  see  it,  never.  You 
are  quit  of  him,  Robert.  He  will  drift  peace- 
ably out  of  your  life.  It  is  I,  only  I,  who  stand 
between  you  and  your  heart's  desire.  If  I 
were  dead,  you  could  marry  again. 

ELAINE.    Possibly.    You  are  not  dead. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Coming  nearer,  with  increasing 
intensity  of  tone.)  I  will  make  a  bargain  with 
you.  Give  me  that  paper,  which  I  signed  in  a 
moment  of  weakness,  give  it  to  me  now,  and  I 
pledge  you  my  word  that  you  shall  be  free, 
and — soon ! 

(He  looks  at  her  keenly,  but  makes  no  sign.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  You  said  that  this  war  would 
work  incalculable  changes  in  all  of  us.  It  has 
worked  such  a  change  in  me.  Do  you  think 
that  I  can  sink  back  to  the  old  life?  Harry  is 
going  from  me.  That  is  inevitable.  What  is 


122  SEARCHLIGHTS 

left  for — me?  What  is  the  one  thing,  to-day, 
dearer  to  me  than  life  itself — his  happiness !  I 
have  sinned — yes,  and  I  am  prepared  to  pay 
for  my  sin  to  the  uttermost  farthing.  Give  me 
that  paper  (she  holds  out  her  hand  steadily} 
and  trust  me  to  find  a  way  out — of — your — 
life! 

ELAINE.    By  the  sacrifice  of  your  own? 

MRS.  ELAINE.     (Fiercely.)     By  God!    Yes. 

(They  hold  each  other's  glance.  The  woman 
is  rigid  with  excitement  and  determina- 
tion; the  man,  for  the  first  time,  indicates 
some  relaxation  of  the  tissues.  His  glance 
falls  beneath  hers;  his  head  bows  itself 
upon  his  chest.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.    You  do  not  believe  me? 

ELAINE.     (Hoarsely.)     I  do. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Derisively.)  I  read  you,  Rob- 
ert. Your  cold  brain  is  weighing  the  means  to 
such  an  end.  Have  no  fear!  For  my  son's 
sake,  not  yours,  I  promise  you  immunity  from 
gossiping  tongues.  (In  a  thrilling  whisper.) 
I  shall  find  what  I  seek  in  France.  I  shall  fall 
where  Harry  might  have  fallen ! 

ELAINE.    No. 

MRS.  ELAINE.  You  refuse  to  give  me  that  pa- 
per? 


SEARCHLIGHTS  123 

ELAINE.  You  are  magnificent.  (Slowly.}  I 
have  made  you  suffer  too  much. 

(He  tears  up  the  paper.  She  regards  him 
almost  suspiciously,  incredulous  of  the 
change  in  his  voice  and  manner.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  You — you  mean ?  Say  some- 
thing— anything ! 

ELAINE.  (Gently,)  Last  Autumn,  in  Phoebe's 
album,  I  wrote:  "God's  most  merciful  gift 
may  be  SILENCE."  I  stand  in  need  of  for- 
giveness myself.  Your  love  for  Harry  has  re- 
deemed you. 

(A  slight  pause.) 

MRS.  ELAINE.  (Passionately.)  Robert,  am  I  to 
live  alone  with  you,  eating  my  heart  out,  won- 
dering what  you  are  thinking? 

ELAINE.  (Taking  her  hand.)  I  shall  be  think- 
ing, Alice,  of— PEACE! 


CURTAIN. 


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,.".£. 5°U™ERN..?.EGI°NAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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ANGELES 
UBRAKY 


